


Everything, And Then Some

by sarsoor



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Girl Band Au, I haven't decided all I know is that it's about the yearning, I will warn you as we go, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, also I'm sorry I have no idea how to rate this, drummer!annabeth, let's call it a simmer for now, medium-low heat with the cover on, or maybe medium burn, the percy/hazel siblingship we were robbed of in hoo, there might be adult themes maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 126,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarsoor/pseuds/sarsoor
Summary: Percy Jackson is a wildlife photographer struggling to get by. Jobless and shaken after a particularly difficult last trip, Percy accepts his best friend’s offer to help out an up-and-coming punk band. As he navigates new experiences and new relationships, Percy must come to terms with his trauma in order to get his life back on track.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 95
Kudos: 228





	1. when the curtains close and the lights go out

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Queenpin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15641031) by [ananbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ananbeth/pseuds/ananbeth), [blackjacktheboss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackjacktheboss/pseuds/blackjacktheboss). 



> Hi there! Thank you for giving my story a chance, if you decide to read any further. I'd like to warn you in advance that I've never written a fanfiction before or used AO3 to publish any works, so I'm sorry if the formatting gets messed up or any tags are off. The story so far is fairly mild, the worst being liberal use of some curse words, at least for right now. I'll add any warnings as they come, but if you read along and think I should tag anything that could be potentially triggering, please let me know! Again, thank you for reading! Enjoy!
> 
> ((also Percy being a wildlife photographer in this was 100% inspired by ananbeth and blackjacktheboss's mob au!! if you have not read it, go read it it's literally one of my all-time fave fics))

Percy feels like his head is going to explode. 

He has been staring at his laptop screen for the past twenty minutes, nursing a disgustingly grainy cup of coffee and a migraine that has not let up since he pulled himself out of bed this morning. It is 10am on a Monday, and Percy thinks he might die here, at his little kitchen table, trying to fill out a job application for a position he doesn’t even want, but objectively really needs. He rubs his face furiously, as if pressing his eyeballs into his skull might make them more apt to read the most _ridiculous_ script he has ever seen. Honestly, who the fuck would put a job application in cursive, of all things? Someone who is trying very hard to make Percy’s life as miserable as possible, he thinks. Or maybe just some idiot who didn’t have to think twice about the font because he’s never had trouble with things like this. It seems more likely, but the pounding in Percy’s skull has spread to his face and he’s determined to believe the world has it out for him, and only him.

So maybe the state that he’s in is _marginally_ his fault. He stayed up all night with Grover shooting a meteor shower, but what he saw was so incredible that he couldn’t find it in him to think ahead or question whether this would be the best decision for his health. Grover hadn’t even asked him to come, not really. He had just started to say “hey, you know there’s gonna be this insane meteor shower Sunday night,” and Percy immediately offered to bring his night gear, before Grover could even finish his sentence, and that was that. It’s not like their relationship was one that required invitation, anyway—they had been nearly inseparable since they were 12 years old and Nancy Bobofit had knocked Grover’s crutches out from under him, laughing as he struggled to reach them. Percy had done what any rational person would do, and shoved her into the large water fountain outside their school, then helped Grover up. 

Percy had gotten detention for 2 weeks for what happened, and Grover waited for him every single day, with snacks and the latest installment of their favorite comic series, _The Hunters_. Percy believed there was just something cosmically _right_ about a group of badass women who traveled the world hunting down and undermining greedy capitalists and corrupt government leaders, taking out abusers and misogynists along the way. He remembers wishing they would come take care of his old step-dad on their way to Trump Tower or something, waiting for new editions that might bring them to New York. Grover, on the other hand, wished they would come so he could advocate for the downfall of those responsible for destroying the Amazon and ravaging 10% of the world’s biodiversity. Different goals, same sentiment: please take out the assholes who deserve it. It solidified their friendship that much more.

Suddenly Percy’s phone is ringing, and he realizes he fell asleep somewhere in the middle of that reverie. He fumbles for it clumsily, answers without even looking at the screen.

“Mm, hello?” he mumbles tiredly, wiping his hand down his face in an attempt to wake the fuck up.

“Percy!” It’s Grover. Of course it’s Grover, it always is. “Listen, I maybe possibly did something that you maybe possibly might want to kill me for.”

He perks up at this, most of his tiredness forgotten at the fear in his best friend’s tone. In all 13 years of their friendship, Percy has never even come close to being angry with Grover. He was the one person on Earth, aside from Percy’s mother, that Percy loved so much he just couldn’t see any faults in him. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s impossible,” Percy begins, “but you’ve piqued my interest. What could I want to murder you for?”

Grover takes a breath, like it’s a relief to hear, but his voice is still a bit shaky.

“Well, as you know I’m the stage manager for Hazel’s band,” he explains, uselessly, and Percy wants to tell him to get to the point. “Anyway their tour photographer dropped out last minute to go on the road with Dua Lipa—which, I mean, holy shit Dua Lipa, right—and I may have tossed your name into the ring and they may possibly be relying on you to come through for them and take over for the next nine months.”

Percy feels his eyes bulge out of his head as Grover states how long he’ll have to be on the road for. Nine months is absolute insanity, especially to be traveling with a band he doesn’t fully know, especially when he’ll be paying rent that whole time, especially when he won’t get to visit his mom any time he feels like it. It’s the last part that stings the most, but the application on his computer screen seems to be mocking him, and this is the first time all morning that Percy’s been able to forget about his migraine, so he speaks up before he can convince himself out of it. 

“I’m in,” he says, and Grover’s whoop of triumph is enough to make Percy smile for the first time today. “I have questions, though, like, logistics and all that.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s totally fine, you can talk to Piper when you get here.” Grover is breathless now, excited. “By the way we’re sound-checking in three hours and you need to get to Terminal 5 with enough belongings for roughly the next year and all your equipment in…90 minutes.”

Percy feels his jaw slacken, but when he realizes there is no time for shock and disrepair, he shakes himself out of it and stands, suddenly on edge. 

“I can do that,” he says, shutting his laptop and fumbling for his charger. “I will see you then.”

“Oh, don’t forget your passport! We’re crossing into Canada and Mexico at some point so keep it tucked away somewhere safe.”

Percy is nodding while he heads to his bedroom to pack, until he realizes Grover can’t exactly see him.

“Yeah, for sure. Anything else I need?”

“Um, toiletries? Deodorant? Toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner—”

“I meant anything that I _wouldn’t_ have thought of, Grover.”

“Oh. Uh, no, just don’t forget your equipment. Bring the night gear, too, you never know. Plus the shows are insane, do you have all your videographer stuff, too?”

Percy stops as he looks around his room, fists resting on his hips. 

“You know what, I’ll just bring it all. Better safe than sorry,” he states, mostly to himself, and Grover hums in agreement.

“I gotta go, Perce, but I’ll see you soon. Hour and a half! Terminal 5! Don’t forget to bring enough socks and underwear to last you a year!”

And then he hangs up, leaving Percy in a quiet that is far too unsettling for his liking. It feels out of place, the stillness—he can feel his entire body buzzing with anticipation, nerves, a tinge of anxiety for what he has agreed to. He’s never shot a band before, at least not while they’re in the middle of performing. His main focus is wildlife, although occasionally he’ll help out if someone needs portraits done. He feels most content, though, whenever he’s out on the water. He freelances for National Geographic every once in a while, and he tends to be the one they come to whenever they need a photographer to go out on a team with researchers to find some really niche ocean species that he can never pronounce the name of, but he loves all the same. Sometimes it takes days, sometimes months—Percy is no stranger to traveling for extended periods of time. He’s just never been gone for so long, and he’s never even thought about shooting a concert, of all things. This is going to be one new experience on top of another, and as he packs his massive bag of equipment he feels a bit thrilled at the thought. He doesn’t mind change, actually loves the feeling of not knowing what’s coming next, not knowing what to expect. 

The little bit of anxiety from earlier turns into blinding excitement, and Percy is moving around his tiny apartment far too quickly for his brain to keep up. He goes on autopilot as he packs everything, grateful for Grover’s reminder about his underwear—Percy may have been known to forget to pack essentials despite how many years and how many trips he’s taken for work before. He tends to get tunnel vision, when he packs. All he can think about is which lenses he should bring, how many cameras, what kind of gear he needs. His mother tells him it’s because of the deep love he has for his job; Grover says it’s because he is quite possibly the most absent-minded person on the planet. Percy likes to side with his mother—she raised him, so she knows what she’s talking about.

Percy is packed and ready to go in an hour, carrying his duffel of equipment, and a small suitcase full of the essentials. He’s very good at packing lightly when it comes to clothes and other items, despite not being able to sacrifice a single piece of equipment if ever a fleeting thought that he may need it crosses his mind. He feels as though this is a good balance—you can always throw your clothes in a washing machine, but you won’t be able to pick up a 500mm f/4 lens in the middle of the ocean. It’s about practicality, but also mostly just Percy’s inability to part with his equipment. Part of it is how ridiculously expensive everything is, but the larger part is how much he fucking _loves_ everything about what he does, down to the tiniest screw. 

After checking around the apartment to make sure no toasters are plugged in or any stovetops are on, he leaves his mother a voicemail explaining the situation, apologizing for not being able to say goodbye, and asking her to use her spare key to take care of his cacti and his fish. Percy isn’t much of a plant guy, but when Hazel gifted him the succulents she insisted there was no way he could possibly kill them. Percy knocked two of them off the window sill while he was climbing back into his apartment from the fire escape and proceeded to step on them while trying to pick them up. Hazel had stared at him with a half-horrified, half-amused look on her face, and vowed to never again bring a living thing into his home. Percy thought that was unfair, because he had been keeping his fish alive for longer than their life expectancies ever said was possible. He gives them a little sprinkling of food and bids them farewell before hurrying out the door, taking care to watch where his duffel bag swings. 

Terminal 5 already has a small line formed outside the doors when he arrives. It’s only 12:30, and he’s sure the show can’t start until at least 6 o’clock. As he passes the girls on the line he sees that a few of them are wearing Hazel’s band t-shirts, and his heart swells for his friend. She fought hard to be able to follow her dreams, went against the wishes of her parents, sacrificed so much to get where she is today. She’s starting a 9-month tour and kicking it off at Terminal 5 for fuck’s sake, and while that may not seem like much to those who know the small venue and its god-awful acoustics, Percy is infinitely proud of her for all the progress she’s made. She started off playing unpaid gigs at her summer camp and now she’s going to play a sold-out show for roughly 3,000 people. He wishes he had time to get her flowers or even a card, but he’s already running late and he needs to get inside like, right now. A security guard stops him at the back door but one call to Grover sorts everything out, and soon he's being dragged inside by his friend, who starts talking at him at lightning speed.

“Alright, the girls are about to start soundcheck and we need you to take a few shots while they do for their Instagram,” he begins, his grip on Percy’s wrist uncomfortably tight.

Percy wonders when Grover became a speed-walker and worries briefly about the state of his friend’s muscle health, how he plans to take care of himself for the next nine months.

“I’ve got to finish setting up the stage but Piper should be—oh, there’s Piper. Piper! Over here! Piper’s gonna get you up to speed and let you know what they’re looking for, yadda yadda—Phoebe, please make sure that amp is stage left—seeyoulaterPercebye!”

And then he’s gone, and Percy is left alone in the middle of the pit with his suitcase and giant bag of equipment while everyone rushes around him. He feels terribly out of place, and incredibly awkward, and he wants to kind of just curl up into his suitcase and zip himself inside. Piper does seem to be on her way over to him, at least, and when she arrives she offers him a wide grin, which he returns immediately. She certainly looks the part of a tour manager, wearing a blazer over some purposefully un-ripped jeans. She is totally professional, with a clipboard and a headset and her thick, brown hair pulled back into a chic ponytail. He briefly wonders how deadly it might be if she whipped him in the face with it.

“Long time no see, Jackson,” she greets, giving him a quick hug.

“Always a pleasure, McLean,” he responds, grateful for her presence. “Grover kind of just—was Grover, I guess. What the fuck am I doing here?”

She laughs and it’s a sound he hasn’t heard in far too long, one that warms his stomach and makes him long for the days when he was around to be with his friends for more than a month at a time. 

“Well you’re our new photographer of course,” she teases, and he gives her a flat look. “Alright, we’re running soundcheck in like five minutes, we just need some shots of the band in their element, we want to show the fans we’re here, we’re ready, all that. Just get mostly group shots and a few individuals and we’ll go from there.”

He nods, looking over the stage, figuring out if he wants to be on the stage with them or down in the pit. He realizes he can shoot as many angles as he likes, which is new and different for him. When you’re on a boat in the middle of the ocean or in a quiet forest trying not to scare away your subject, you only have so many options. Percy feels a strange sense of freedom at the fact that the band won’t run away from him if he comes too close or moves too suddenly—at least, he hopes they won’t.

“Sounds good,” he says, nodding. “I have other questions, though. I probably should’ve asked them before I agreed to the job, but here we are now.”

She grins like a mad woman, the glint in her dark eyes scaring him a bit.

“Oh, you’re in this for the money, aren’t you, you little gold digger,” she accuses, half-laughing.

“Yes, Piper, that’s usually why people, you know, _work_.” 

She rolls her eyes and nudges him, and a woman with a headset and a handful of disembodied, thick electrical cords comes up to her and starts asking questions rapid-fire. She responds with alarming ease, having all the answers, and Percy is in awe of her and the way she handles what seemed to have been an urgent situation so calmly. She turns to him once she’s done and crosses her arms over her chest.

“The pay isn’t bad, but it’s nothing too crazy—they’re not exactly the biggest band in the world,” she informs him, and he nods. “Accommodations are included, you won’t have to worry about where to sleep. The girls don’t like having guys on their bus, so you’ll be with Grover and Leo in the van for travel purposes, unless we need shots of them on board, which could happen. Food will mostly be provided, unless you’re looking for something specific, and after-show parties are mandatory—not for work, but because it’s been far too long since I last kicked your ass at pong.”

He grins widely and she mirrors his expression, kicks at his ankle.

“You’ll be fine, Perce, honestly. You deal with like, rabid animals on a daily basis. The closest you’ll get to danger is Thalia before she’s had her breakfast.”

He laughs at this, eliciting a satisfied smile from Piper. She always knows exactly what to say, when someone needs reassuring. He has no idea how she does it—Percy is shit with words, can’t give a speech to save his life. He’s grateful for Piper in ways she’ll never understand; or maybe she will. She’s always been able to read his mind, to an almost terrifying extent. He’ll have to remember to do something nice for her, maybe finally give her the photoshoot she’s been begging him to do since she first found out he was a photographer. 

“One last question,” he begins. “Where can I put all my shit?”

Once Percy’s belongings are stored safely backstage he makes his way back out to the pit. On his way down the stairs he hears a squeal and the sound of rubber squeaking against the floor from behind him. Before he can fully turn around there’s a flurry of a dark afro in his vision and a mass of warmth smashing into him as Hazel throws herself at him, hugging him impossibly tightly.

“Percy you’re here, you’re here, I can’t believe you’re here!” she cheers happily, jumping up and down as she squeezes the life out of him. She’s surprisingly strong for her size.

“Hey, Hazel,” he laughs, unable to hug her back because she’s got his arms pinned to his sides. “Been a while.”

“A _while_?” she exclaims, shoving him away from her. “You don’t come by in three months and you have the nerve to call it a while? I should throw you out of here, Percy Jackson.”

He grins widely, and that alone is enough to transform the traces of frustration on her face into a reluctant smile.

“Don’t you look at me like that,” she warns, wagging her finger at him. “I will sing at you.”

He laughs from his belly, amused and overjoyed at the fact that one of his best friends is in front of him again. He’s missed her terribly, so much so that he can’t help but pull her into a hug again, lifting her up so he can do so properly. She smacks his shoulder so that he’ll put her down and he complies, then knocks her chin with his knuckles lightly.

“I can’t wait for you to sing me to death, kid,” he says, and although his tone is teasing he knows that it's entirely honest. 

She rolls her eyes at him fondly, perhaps aware that he means it, too.

“Whatever, go take my picture Photo Boy,” she orders, her chin high in the air as she waves him off. 

He pinches her cheeks for good measure and runs down the steps to get to the pit before she can get him back. He crouches down in front of the stage as he sets up his camera, decides on a lens and considers adding a teleconverter. He’s really only vaguely aware of what’s happening around him, far too focused on the debate in his head to really pay attention to anything else. There is a bit of yelling across the venue, Hazel’s voice coming in and out of the microphone, the sound of a bass drum being hit rhythmically, a power chord ringing through the air. His mind flip-flops between giving up quality for zoom, but he decides if he really needs to get closer he can always just walk forward—he tucks the teleconverter away for another time. Right now he should probably start doing his job, before he loses this gig and is forced to go back to that nightmare of a job application. He sets his equipment aside, in a safe place, and stands before the stage, witnessing Hazel’s band in all their glory. 

The first person he notices is Thalia, the lead guitarist. She’s incredibly hard to miss, decked out in spiked leather and clunky combat boots. Her short hair is spiked and half dyed blue, bringing out the electric hue of her eyes. Her ears are covered in piercings, her nails are painted black, and if ever there was a poster child for the punk movement Percy is sure Thalia would be the first pick. He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face as he watches her roll her neck, looking painfully bored as she waits for her turn to do initial checks. When her head comes back to center and her eyes land on Percy she smiles widely for a moment before remembering she has a reputation to uphold, and scowls at him fiercely.

“You little shit,” she yells over the sound of Hazel’s “booooooooooooooooooooop” that she sings into the microphone as the sound engineer works to perfect her mic’s settings. “Who do you think you are, showing up in our time of crisis?”

Percy’s smile is so wide it feels like his face might split in half, and he can’t help but laugh.

“I’m the hero of this story, obviously,” he returns, and she flips him off, trying to hide her grin behind her raised one-finger salute.

It’s finally her turn for checks and he can see the relief wash over her features as he lifts his camera to his eye and uses her as his guide. Thalia is incredibly fluid and always in motion, even when she’s meant to be standing still. She’s the perfect template to work off of to figure out where he needs to be positioned, what settings he should be using on his camera. After a few shots of Thalia rocking back and forth on her heels, ripping her mic off her stand so she can wander around the stage restlessly, kiss her girlfriend Reyna on the cheek and then elbow the cymbals on the drum kit, Percy has most of it figured out. He feels eternally grateful to be friends with someone almost as hyperactive as he is as he steps farther back from the stage and moves to his right to focus on Reyna, the band’s bassist. He hasn’t spent much time around her or the band’s drummer, only having met Reyna in passing, so he feels as though he should spend some time getting to know the way these two move on stage.

Reyna is an impeccable subject, Percy discovers, as he hardly needs to do much work to make her look good. She towers over Hazel, her legs long and planted firmly beneath her. Her dark bronze skin is smooth and flawless, and the downturn of her lips on her resting face is absolutely perfect for the angle Percy has decided to go for. While Thalia’s style lines up with the band’s vibe, Reyna’s face and body language alone tell you everything you need to know about her. She moves gracefully, lithe and purposeful in her actions, and Percy can’t help but think back to the jungle cats he shot in the Amazon two years back. Her eyes are just as fierce and just as piercing, her muscular arms taut and primed for action. Percy photographs her perhaps a bit too long, but he just can’t help himself—she is easy to focus on, to get lost in.

He moves onto Hazel, then, and when she sees him focus on her she sticks her tongue out at him and scrunches up her nose cutely. He hardly needs any practice with her; he’s been taking photos of Hazel since he got his first camera. She has always been a willing subject, although she absolutely refuses to pose seriously. Instead she’ll pull ridiculous faces, do the splits between transitions. Once, she managed to stand on her head and flash him a peace sign in the process. She’s no different right now, as she kicks out her legs like a Rockette, mimes licking her guitar, lifts one leg up perpendicular to the ground as she bends to the right. It’s in that moment that she’s out of the way enough for Percy to see the blur of golden light behind her as he snaps his photo and removes his camera from his eye to take in the drummer.

The first thing he notices, oddly enough, is her phenomenal posture. She’s sitting up ram-rod straight, her form flawless as she twirls her drumsticks between her fingers, her leg bouncing up and down in perfect time. Percy has to force himself to look away from the hypnotizing motion of her drumsticks and instead he turns his attention to her eyes, and he thinks maybe his heart might have stopped beating for a moment or two. They’re piercing grey, sharp and dark as storm clouds rolling in over the horizon. When she meets his gaze they only cut him that much deeper, and it takes him a few moments to realize that the pounding in his chest is amplified by the vibrations of her bass drum. How the two are beating in time with one another, Percy has no idea, but he doesn’t have it in him to think about anything that isn’t her razor sharp gaze. He lifts his camera to his eye, and for the first time in his life he has a bit of trouble holding it steady.

She’s a bit difficult to pin down, being behind everyone else, so he moves to get a better perspective so that she’s between Hazel and Thalia. He notes the tension in her jaw and neck as he takes his photos, wonders if she decided on drums to maybe relieve some of it. He wants to get up on stage to be able to focus only on her, without all of the noise in the foreground, but he’s afraid if he gets any closer he might combust—he’s been buzzing since she first laid her eyes on him and he doesn’t quite trust himself to be able to take his camera off of her if he allows himself to get any nearer. She is a bit too tense to get any photos that look natural, and although she looks regal and unnervingly statuesque with the mess of golden curls framing her face, Percy hopes that once she begins playing for real she might loosen up a bit. He gets a great shot of her though, tilting her head back as she cracks her neck, her drumsticks still twirling, her beat on the bass so methodical it could be mistaken for a metronome. The name of the band is written in bold black letters on her bass drum, _Demi_. 

It’s a reference, Percy knows, to when all the members met at the summer camp they attended together when they were younger. Thalia and Reyna had been counselors while the drummer—Percy thinks her name is Annabeth—and Hazel were campers. Despite Hazel being two years Annabeth’s junior and four years younger than Reyna and Thalia, they managed to form a band during those summers and would always come back together until Reyna and Thalia were too old to be counselors any longer. It was then that Hazel made the decision to officially dedicate her life to her music—she was 18 and more determined than ever to prove her mother wrong. She could and would make a name for herself, no matter how long it took. 

It would end up taking nearly five years, apparently, but here they all were, together, going through soundcheck for the first show on their completely sold-out North American tour. Percy feels pride swell in his chest as he brings his camera down to look at the last photo he has taken of Annabeth and then looks up at Hazel. The only thing preventing her from being his younger sister, he thinks, is their blood, but Percy knows that DNA means absolutely nothing—family is chosen, and if anyone in the world can be considered his family it is Hazel Levesque. He must be looking at her rather oddly, because she tilts her head at him and knits her eyebrows in confusion. He just smiles widely and blows her a kiss, his hand smacking against his mouth loudly, and she laughs as she pretends to catch it and then throws it in the air, swinging at it with her guitar like a baseball bat. He laughs a bit, and he feels his eyes being pulled back to Annabeth, who is staring at him, her gaze unwavering. His laughter dies in his throat and he tries to swallow but suddenly his mouth is very dry and he’s not quite sure what he could have possibly done to be glared at with such ferocity. Thankfully individual checks end and the band is cleared to play a song all together. 

Percy immediately recognizes the opening chords as one of their heavier sounds, and as they play and the beat picks up he feels the music in his chest, quite literally. The second Hazel begins to sing is the moment the goosebumps on Percy’s skin rise, and he knows that it’s the perfect time to get shots of the band while they’re in their element. Hazel’s voice is hauntingly beautiful as she hits her high notes perfectly, her angelic voice contrasting with the harsh guitar and heavy drums and bass. It’s even better when she shouts, the few moments when she screams out the lyrics pulling Percy in, making him want to abandon his camera altogether and just fucking rage. 

He has always been Hazel’s biggest fan, which means he has been Demi’s biggest fan as well. Every album, every single, every EP they have ever released was immediately downloaded, bought as a CD and in vinyl. He has entire drawers dedicated to their merchandise and while much of it was given to him for free, he makes sure to purchase a few items every now and again to keep sales high. He chooses a ridiculous fake name each time, but he knows Hazel recognizes his address and she sees to it to send him a special message any time a signed item is included in the package. Usually those messages contain colorful language and death threats if he ever spends his money so uselessly again, but he can’t help himself—he is loyal to a fault and can never pass up the opportunity to support the people he loves.

He makes sure to get multiple photos of the girls altogether, which is easy to do from the position he’s chosen in the middle of the room, farther back from the stage than he was when he was getting his individual shots. Thalia is all over the stage, and her restlessness allows him to get much narrower and closer-range shots than he would get if she stayed far to the left as she was meant to. He smiles to himself as Hazel jumps up and down in front of her mic, fully invested in the music, and centers his next shot around the way she bounces in time with the beat of the song. Once he’s satisfied with this perspective he moves around the room and gets more collective images, at one point climbing up onto a lighting rig off side-stage to get a birds eye view. He does his best not to focus too much on Annabeth, but he can’t help himself from moving to take her individuals first, now that she’s in constant motion.

She seems entirely in her element, now, the tension from earlier erased as she hits her drums with perhaps a bit too much vigor. If she recognizes Percy’s presence so close to her on stage she doesn’t show it—she seems focused and lost in the rhythm of the song. Despite how free she seems now there’s still something systematic and deliberate about the way she plays. Percy feels almost intrusive, especially when she takes to slamming down on her high toms with a look of pure euphoria on her face. It’s a strange combination, the arrangement of her features—her eyes are intense and her eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration, but her mouth is twisted into a wicked smile that makes the hairs on the back of Percy’s neck stand up. She is the most terrifying sight he has ever seen, and he realizes that _this_ is how Annabeth must express herself, through her music. Hazel has her voice and her lyrics, Thalia has her piercings and her hair, Reyna has her sharp features, but Annabeth has her drum kit and a ferocity that rivals the most dangerous animals he has ever shot. If Reyna is a jungle cat stealthing through the trees then Annabeth is a shark ready to feed in chummy waters. Percy has to physically force himself to turn his back on her to get individuals of the other girls, and even then he finds himself going back to Annabeth in between. 

They play three more songs, one of which is even louder and more intense than the first they played, and two of which are soft ballads. Percy recognizes the last soft song they play as one which Hazel had dedicated to his mother, and every time he hears it he can’t help but get a bit misty-eyed. Once they’re finished and have the all-clear from the sound engineer, Percy sets his camera on top of one of the amps and pulls Hazel into his chest in a lung-crushing hug. She hugs him back just as tightly, burying her face in his neck, and he feels her curls tickling him as she moves her head back to speak to him.

“I can’t believe it took you five years to agree to be my tour photographer,” she says as she pulls back, and he frowns at her.

“I’m sorry, Hazy,” he apologizes, busting out an old nickname she absolutely despises, but she doesn’t even react, the sadness on her face too prominent to betray any other emotions. “I just—never thought I could do it. I’m not the best at shooting people, you know that.”

She grins widely, and he hears the words that have just come out of his mouth a moment too late.

“I’d certainly hope not,” she teases, and he figures his apology is accepted as he shoves her face away from him with his big, calloused hands. 

“Let’s have a look at the photos, see if you’re really cut out for it,” she suggests, poking his stomach, and once his camera is in his hands he suddenly has four bodies surrounding him, trying to get a look at his screen.

As they go through the shots, first of Thalia, then Reyna, then Hazel, the girls point out the angles they like, what they’d like more of come showtime. Thalia teases Percy about the amount of photos he has of Reyna, asking if he plans on stealing her girlfriend from her. He feels his heart stutter as he suddenly becomes acutely aware of Annabeth’s presence off behind him to his right, remembering just how many photos he has taken of her, and he considers telling them that he needs to go charge up before the show to avoid it. But then they’re moving through Annabeth’s pictures and she is oppressively beautiful and still and Hazel sighs in adoration. They reach the last photo he took of her before getting the group shots, when her neck was exposed and her hair tumbled down her shoulders and everything was framed so perfectly. Reyna hums in appreciation and Percy feels Annabeth tensing up beside him, shifting away from him a bit. 

“Percy this is…wow,” Hazel whispers in awe, then looks over at Annabeth. “You _need_ to post this, like, right now.”

He risks a glance in the dummer’s direction and there is a frown set deeply on her face as she pointedly avoids his gaze and looks back at Hazel.

“My account is private anyway, Hazel, it won’t make a difference who sees it,” she says to her friend, and it’s the first time Percy has ever heard her voice. 

It sounds far too soft to belong to the intimidating and admittedly terrifying woman who was slamming down on her drum kit not five minutes prior, and Percy realizes too late that he is outwardly staring at her, taking her in. He finds it difficult to pin her down now that she’s come out from behind her drum set, and he wonders if he will ever be able to truly capture who she is in her entirety, as more than just the woman responsible for the rhythm of the band. When the curtains close and the lights go out, what does she become? He’s trying his best to imagine her somewhere else, outside of here, in the daylight, no instruments in sight. Who is she when she’s not playing her music, separate from all of this? Percy has an alarmingly profound urge to find out. 

“Ugh, that’s so not the point,” Hazel groans, and it snaps Percy back to the present.

If his eyes linger on the freckles dusted across Annabeth’s nose for a few moments longer than they should, she doesn’t call him out. Instead she shrugs and says she needs to make a phone call, then stalks off the stage. Percy is brought back to reality when Hazel tugs on his shirtsleeve and asks him to keep going through all the photos he’s taken. He finds it difficult to concentrate on the images before him now, even as the girls give him notes and ask that he gets one really specific shot, a moment at the end of the show when smoke shoots out of the stage and confetti falls from the ceiling. 

He is nodding along, agreeing to their plans, but his mind is elsewhere, having left the stage with the girl who suddenly couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. 


	2. you will still be here tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading, thank you so much! A few things to note this chapter:  
> -There is a brief discussion of racism in the music industry, and this will most likely remain a theme throughout the rest of the story  
> -Arab Percy Jackson has arrived and I am maybe a little too excited about it  
> -Arab Percy was inspired by this post on tumblr:  
> https://percasbeths.tumblr.com/post/627746977200930816/jordanian-percy-headcanons-for-u-all  
> -There's a bit of Arabic in phonetic English writing in this chapter and there will be in future chapters, so if you see some numbers mixed in with letters, don't worry they're meant to be there. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have about it so feel free to ask!  
> -Chapter title is from the song Father and Son by Cat Stevens  
> Hope you enjoy!

Once the band is finished with soundcheck, Hazel drags Percy to their dressing room backstage and demands uninterrupted catch-up time. She insists that the rest of her band members sit with them, in order to get to know the man who will be taking their photos for the next nine months, but Annabeth is nowhere to be found. Percy tries to bury the disappointment he feels in the pit of his stomach and focuses on spending time with his friends, and learning more about Reyna. Percy does wish Hazel would let him head back uptown to say goodbye to his mother before it’s time to hit the road, but when he sees the excitement in her eyes he can’t bring himself to leave her, not after they were apart for so long. She is filled to the brim with energy, bouncing around the room like a pinball, putting Thalia’s hyperactivity to shame. Reyna is doing her best to hold a conversation with Percy but Hazel is distracting enough for the both of them.  Once Reyna can’t take it anymore she physically holds Hazel in place by her shoulders and pushes her down into the ground, but Hazel seems to be vibrating. They have a moment of intense eye contact, each one of them unwilling to cave, and Hazel maintains her dead serious composure as she sticks her finger in her mouth and slowly raises it towards Reyna’s ear, threateningly. Reyna doesn’t even flinch, and Hazel’s hand is moving steadily, and then Hazel is giving Reyna a wet willy, Hazel is sprinting away from Reyna, and Reyna is tackling Hazel into the couch and pinching her sides and arms mercilessly.

“I cave, I cave!” Hazel yells, and Thalia has to drag her infuriated girlfriend off of the band’s front-woman before she actually does some damage.

Hazel throws her arms around Percy, clinging to him for protection, but he’s laughing way too hard to be of any help to her, and she is still closer to Reyna than he is. She seems content just hanging onto him, and being as affectionate as he is, Percy is more than comfortable hugging her right back. He has lost time to make up for, after all.

At some point later Piper brings a writer from _NME_ into the room and tries to give Percy the boot, but Hazel blows a raspberry at her manager for suggesting it and insists Percy stay right where he is. He has the pleasure, then, to see her in all her professional glory—it also helps that Piper basically drags Annabeth into the room by her ear and shoves her inside, leaving her to take her place at the end of the long couch next to Thalia. Percy suddenly becomes extremely interested in the interviewer’s tape recorder which she places on the table between herself and the band, forcing himself not to look at Annabeth for fear that he may not be able to turn away.

In the beginning the questions are monotonous, repetitive, ones they have probably heard before. _Tell us how you got started. What are the dynamics between you all like? Who is this man who Hazel refuses to let go of?_ That one throws him off, and Hazel laughs as she sits up straight and releases Percy from her grip. 

“This is my brother Percy,” she explains, and he has to force himself not to get emotional. 

He may be fighting back tears. It may be more difficult than he expected. 

“He’s a wildlife photographer but he agreed to go on tour with us, _finally_ , after years of me begging him to take the gig.”

He rolls his eyes at her fondly, but doesn’t speak up, knowing it isn’t his place. This is time for the band to shine, and he will play the role of the mute, supportive brother and fanboy as long as she needs him to. He feels a familiar clenching in his chest at her words, though, no matter how teasing they may have been. There is truth to Hazel’s statement, truth to the fact that he did turn his back on her, he did leave her behind. Percy swallows and tries not to dwell on that thought, tries to shove it aside, but he can only ignore the pressure in his chest for so long. He turns his attention to the conversation at hand and forces himself to concentrate on the feeling of Hazel pressed against his side, grounding him, and his legs bounce anxiously of their own accord. 

The interviewer moves on to more serious topics, about the band’s political tracks, where they see themselves fitting into the music scene. Percy catches a few comments that feel uncalled for and irrelevant, and the energy in the room shifts but the interviewer doesn’t really seem to notice. She must make a mistake by comparing the band’s sound to an old genre of music that Percy has heard of but has never thought much about, because Thalia takes it upon herself to correct her.

“I don’t think it’s entirely realistic to put any artist or band into a box,” she begins, and he can tell by the agitated way her leg is bouncing that she has had this discussion before, and hates it. “The Riot Grrrls were obviously really important in their time, but they represented a very narrow group of people, particularly just a bunch of white women. To say we’re following in their footsteps would honestly be a white-washing of not only the band, but the music we make. That particular conversation’s not for me to take the lead on, though.” 

She looks to Hazel and Reyna, waiting for their input, and Reyna and Hazel make eye contact for a moment until Reyna leans back into her seat and Hazel leans forward. Hazel purses her lips and interlocks her fingers, squeezing her hands together and squinting down at them pointedly. Percy can tell she is uncomfortable, but she has been tense since the interviewer commented on how their front-woman isn’t really “typical” of their genre (read: Black girls aren't allowed to scream), so he knows that frustration is directed at the woman before them and not at her bandmates.

“I think human nature forces us to categorize things, put them in neat little groups and set them apart from each other so that we can make sense of the world,” she begins, far too diplomatically for Percy’s liking. 

He wants to tell the interviewer to shove the fuck off and educate _herself_ instead of making Hazel and Reyna feel as though they need to defend their place in the industry. He remembers it’s not his place, though, and gives Hazel’s arm an encouraging squeeze.

“Thalia was right—there’s no way any one artist has ever made music that could really definitively be lumped in with only one genre. If we have some songs that remind you of Bikini Kill, we have some songs that remind you of Bikini Kill; there’s very little I can do to convince you that I’m not trying to emulate a group of people who completely overlooked the needs of women like Reyna and me. This is a very fickle industry, which is ironic considering how viciously artists are separated. I'm Black, so I'm not allowed to be in a rock band. Reyna is Puerto Rican, so she should be playing _reggaetón._ Anything we do outside of what the industry expects of us is an affront, or a bad imitation. Some of our ballads sound straight out of the disco scene, our second album always gets compared to the Seattle Four, sometimes I like to scream and Annabeth likes to play her drums so fast you can barely tell there’s a break in between and we’ll get told that we’re trying to sound like Metallica. 

"At the end of the day, it’s all still music. There’s no point in trying to compare us to anyone else, or to even give us a category of our own. We are who we are and if people like the sound, then that’s all we can really ask for. _I_ know we certainly don’t invite anything further than an appreciation of the music, even though it feels like we can never escape questions and comments like the ones you’ve been sending our way since we sat down here together. It seems to be the only thing we get asked about, especially when Reyna and I are in the room, and in all honesty I think we’re done justifying those questions with responses from now on.” She pauses. "In fact I think we're done with this conversation right now."

Percy does his best to suppress his smile, but he just cannot contain himself. Thalia’s grin is just as wide as his, Reyna is smirking triumphantly as she lounges back on the couch with her arms crossed, and Annabeth is sending a meaningful glare at the interviewer. Despite the fact that it’s not directed at Percy it still chills him to the bone, and he thinks perhaps she’s not so different when she’s sitting on a couch versus a drum stool. The interviewer quiets at Hazel’s responses, seems not to know what to do with herself, and so Thalia thanks her for her time and soon enough she’s being escorted out of the room by Piper, who looks confused and alarmed at how quickly the woman is on her way out. The worried look on her face is replaced by annoyance once Annabeth explains what had happened and she types something furiously into her phone, then follows it up with a voice note.

“Kill whoever claimed to have screened the interview questions before letting that demon backstage.”

It sums up the vibe in the room quite nicely, and the lingering tension is cut when Hazel groans loudly and throws herself across Reyna and Thalia’s laps, claiming that she needs chocolate if she’s going to recover from today’s battle against ignorance. She lifts her head a bit to look at Percy and points at him.

“You. Me. Halal Guys. Stat,” she demands, and he smiles, confused.

“Didn’t know chicken over rice counted as dessert,” he responds, and she grimaces at him.

“Take me to food before I _perish_ ,” she exclaims dramatically, and soon the whole band is gearing up to fight the chill that still lingers in the last days of winter. 

Piper yells about them needing to be back at least an hour before showtime, throws her order at the end of her speech. Percy feels a bit awkward about being dragged along for food despite having a fairly pleasant conversation with Reyna, and he has an inkling that it might be due to the lack of—well, anything, that comes from Annabeth. Thalia and Hazel are talking over each other, Reyna is trying to tell them both to _shut the fuck up for two seconds please_ , and Annabeth is mute, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her corduroy jacket that’s lined with wool and looks about three sizes too big. Her jeans still have rips in them, and while he’s no stranger to having friends who are extremely dedicated to their aesthetic, he wonders what the point of the jacket is if her legs are just gonna freeze. He gets no answers to the questions about her that have been swimming in his head all day, and he wonders why he is so enraptured with a person who has never spoken a single word to him. He's so lost in thought that it takes a smack in the face from Hazel to get his attention, and he stares at her in shock as Thalia laughs her ass off.

“No hyper-fixating unless you’re hyper-fixating on _me_ ,” Hazel demands, and Percy’s jaw is still on the floor.

He vaguely recognizes that they’re standing on line for Hazel’s favorite food stand in the city before he processes what has just happened, and he has to force down a laugh.

“You needy little wretch!” he exclaims. “Do not smack me unless you wanna get smacked back.”

She narrows her eyes. “You would never.”

“I would and I will.”

She takes on a fighter’s stance, then, and Percy wonders who taught her such impeccable form before he sees the look of pride shining on Reyna’s face. His stomach tightens as a wave of sadness washes over him, suddenly, out of the blue. Percy feels as though he’s missed out on something important, wonders how much he doesn’t know about his best friend now that they’ve been kept apart by long trips and mini tours and all the life that went on in between. It’s the little moments like this that send Percy down a spiral of guilt and longing that doesn’t seem to have a bottom, but then Hazel motions him forward with her hand and he sets his feelings aside to live in these moments with her now that he can.

“Me and you, to the death,” she offers confidently, and Percy rolls back his shoulders and mimics her pose.

“No weapons, just skin,” he says.

“These fists are the deadliest weapons in the world,” she shoots back, and Percy physically cannot contain the massive smile that overtakes his face. 

He is two seconds away from breaking out into hysterical laughter at the sight of Hazel, who stands at a modest 5’2”, staunchly determined to prove that she could kill a man if she really wanted to. He has no doubt in her mind that she could, but Hazel has never even been able to step on an ant, and he knows she certainly wouldn’t hit him if she thought it would actually hurt him. Reyna has taken to recording the scene on her phone, and Percy makes the mistake of letting his eyes dart to Annabeth, who is watching with an amused smile on her lips. It softens her features, changes her entire face, and Percy thinks that if she were to ever direct that smile at him he would drop dead on the spot.

His wandering gaze proves to be his downfall, because Hazel jumps up and karate chops his throat, taking him off guard, and then he is choking and clasping it, staring at her in horror. She throws her arms in the air triumphantly and Thalia complains about how anticlimactic it all was, while Percy coughs and tries to breathe.

“What the fuck,” he chokes, his eyes watering, and Hazel is smiling proudly.

“I had to stand my ground,” she responds simply, with a shrug, and he wants to kick her little legs out from under her. 

He does, and she falls flat on her ass, letting out a squeal as she goes, and Thalia loses her shit, laughing hysterically.

“Percy Jackson you _bastard_!” Hazel yells, then leans to one side and rubs her backside. “That hurt!”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, babes,” he responds, and she pouts as she reaches out for Annabeth to help her up.

Percy notices the massive, amused smile on Annabeth’s face, and he wants so badly to capture it, his hands itching for his camera. Hazel whirls on him and pokes him in the chest hard, standing on her tiptoes to try to get in his face. She comes up several inches too short.

“That was no fair, you took me off guard,” she says, and he rolls his eyes.

“You went for my windpipe, you little demon,” he responds, and Thalia is still just laughing. 

Reyna seems more entertained by her girlfriend’s hysterics than she does by the fact that Hazel was (rightfully) knocked on her ass. Hazel pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“You’re fired,” she states simply, and Percy smiles widely.

“Well you know what, no extra white sauce for you,” he says, and her face drops.

“Percy, don’t you dare—”

_“Salam, 3ammo!”_ Percy calls out to the man working the stand, and then they are speaking Arabic and Percy is charming his way into this man’s heart, tricking Hazel into thinking he is scheming to ruin her pre-show meal.

It's safe to say that she will not be attacking Percy’s windpipe for the foreseeable future. The white sauce is just too valuable to risk.

-

Minutes before the band is about to start their set, Percy stands off to the side of the stage as Hazel bounces up and down, shaking out her arms and legs, rolling her neck. He knows this is a pre-show ritual of hers, to get as loose as physically possible, to release any tension or tightness in her muscles. She’s dressed in a rather unconventional outfit, a deep red tutu with a ripped shirt tucked in and her favorite leather jacket thrown on top. Her hair is done half-up in space buns and he recognizes the Doc Martens she has on as the ones he bought her after he got his first real, well-paying gig with National Geographic. She looks like she’s ready to plié her way into a knife fight, which he assumes was her goal in getting dressed for the show, and he finds himself smiling because this is exactly who Hazel is, when it comes down to it.

He has no idea why but as he watches her he feels a pit form in his stomach and a fear settle over him. He was unaware of the existence of second-hand stage fright until that very moment, and now he is almost as antsy as Hazel is, and he finds himself fiddling with the camera around his neck just to have something to do with his hands. It’s at this moment that Annabeth arrives and stands on the other side of Percy, and he does a double take as he recognizes that she is a spitting image of Debbie Thornberry, from the wild blonde curls down to the tube top paired with an oversized flannel. He is about to say this out loud, very stupidly, but then he notices that she’s rubbing her sticks together furiously, almost like she’s trying to start a fire, and Percy recognizes her rigid posture and frantic movements. It never crossed his mind that someone who is so at home on stage could be afraid of performing, but Percy supposes it’s not the stage that feels like home to her, but her spot behind her drum set. He decides to risk it all in order to try to help out her nerves, and actually speaks to her for the first time all day.

“You okay?” he asks gently, trying not to startle her. “You look a little yellow.”

She grits her teeth together and clutches her sticks so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

“I feel like I’m going to barf,” she admits, grimacing, and his hands are moving of their own accord before he can stop himself.

Before he knows it he is holding out his secret weapon, something he uses for nausea and nerves and everything in between.

“I chew these when I feel sick,” he tells her. “It’s gum arabic flavored with ginger. My mom always just calls it _3ilkeh,_ which means, well—gum.”

She takes the wrapped piece of gum from him cautiously, careful not to touch his hand.

“It helps me a lot when I get nauseous before flights,” he feels the need to explain. “It starts off hard as rock but the more you chew it—actually, it’s really hard to chew. But at least you’ll be focusing on not breaking your jaw too much to remember to be nervous.”

She is staring at him now, mute, and he feels his cheeks heat up, because he has just made an utter fool of himself. He wishes he could take his rambling back, but it’s all out in the open now. He never even properly introduced himself, the babbling fool. Her eyes are boring holes into his and right when he’s ready to sprint away and start a new life somewhere very far away from here, she grins the tiniest bit, and Percy's stomach does a gymnastics routine.

“Thanks,” she says quietly, still looking into his eyes like she’s trying to peer into his soul. “If I break my jaw I guess I know who to sue.”

“Her name is Sally Jackson and she is a menace to society,” he returns easily, and she is fully smiling now, her whole face lit up in a way that melts Percy's heart. 

She places the piece of gum in her mouth warily, like she expects it to bite her. She grimaces and winces as she works the piece between her teeth and Percy nods in sympathy as she tries her hardest not to chip a tooth.

“This flavor is—” she swallows, the lump of gum tucked away in her cheek, “it is not pleasant.”

“Oh shit, I must’ve given you the unsweetened one,” he apologizes.

She waves him off and continues chewing, and every painfully slow closing of her jaw brings a new expression to her face. Percy wishes he could lift up his camera and capture every one—first it’s fear, then confusion, then disgust, then what looks suspiciously like guilt, then determination. She is set now in regret, as if she wishes she never accepted his offer, but she powers through it nonetheless.

“I’m Percy, by the way,” he says as he sticks out his hand for a shake, finally introducing himself, and she smiles a bit.

“I know. Hazel never shuts up about you,” she responds, and then she’s placing her drumstick in his hand and shaking it that way. 

Percy tries to stifle a laugh and she grins widely, takes her stick back.

“I’m Annabeth, but you probably already know that too.”

He smiles a bit, glad they’re finally on speaking terms, and then Percy hears a snap and Annabeth’s kind expression morphs into one of pure horror. Percy is sure the look on his face mirrors hers exactly.

“Oh God, I can’t do this anymore,” she mumbles, and spits the gum out into a wastebasket next to the lighting rig. She massages her jaw. “My stomach feels better but I think all my fillings got ripped out,” she says, and Percy smiles slightly, amused.

“That’s the magic of the _3ilkeh,”_ he remarks, and then the band is being told that it’s time for their set. 

The tension in Annabeth’s shoulders from earlier is noticeably gone as she huffs at him but thanks him anyway, then runs out to take her position on stage.

The show that night is like nothing Percy has ever seen. Grover had warned him that the girls had some insane lighting schemes and stage designs, courtesy of their lighting engineer Leo, but Percy just assumed that meant there were maybe a lot of strobes and some smoke. What Percy did not expect was for every strobe of light, every rigged backdrop, every piece of equipment on the stage to be used in such an incredibly meticulous and synchronized way. The lights flash in time with the beats of the song, the backdrop shows scenes and animations that look hand-drawn and gorgeous, and there is far more fire shooting out of the stage than Percy is used to. Usually the pyrotechnics would feel like overkill, a gimmick reserved for old 70s bands when they decide it’s time for a reunion, but Leo’s work is flawlessly coordinated and artfully executed. 

Percy starts taking his photos in front of the barricade, surrounded by security guards and photographers from rock magazines that seem just as awestruck by what’s happening on the stage as he is. Piper offered him earplugs earlier, insisted he would need them, and as the crescendo of the first song starts picking up and culminates into an ear-splitting chorus, Percy is forever grateful to Thalia for having shoved the plugs into his ears the moment he hesitated to take them.

Unlike the other photographers, Percy is allowed to climb up onto the stage while the band plays. He makes sure to avoid a fire rig as he kneels down and gets one of his favorite shots of the night—Thalia is deeply invested in her guitar solo, a look of painful concentration on her face, her features pinched together tightly. Reyna and Hazel are moving in time and egging each other on, and there’s a genuine smile on Reyna’s face that Percy has never had the fortune to witness until that moment. Annabeth is playing softly enough for Thalia to be the center of attention, but her tempo never wavers, and she’s laughing as Hazel starts jumping up to try to reach Reyna’s mic to sing into it. Percy wishes, down to the depths of his being, that he could put down his camera to take a few moments to truly witness their joy, to live in it with them, but his hands won't let him. It's too difficult to break old habits, he thinks. Hazel’s grin only gets bigger when she looks directly into the lens of Percy’s camera and sends him a wink, then gets back to her own mic as Thalia’s solo meets back with the chorus riff, and Hazel belts out the lyrics Percy has memorized by heart. 

The rest of the show follows much in the same fashion, with each of the girls always finding a way to interact with Annabeth and constantly jumping around with each other. Percy looks out to the crowd during a particularly drum-heavy song and laughs out loud at the sight before him—a mosh pit so large that the only people who are safe are either right up against the barricade or on the balconies above. Percy manages to fight his way to the sound booth and makes sure to get as many shots as he can of the pit with the band in the back, all of them stomping in time with the heavy beat. It’s in that moment that Percy understands why Grover told him to bring his videography gear; every instinct Percy has is screaming at him to record these moments in live action, to be able to capture the cacophony of sound and motion and unadulterated exhilaration taking place before him. He knows they have the venue's videographers, two of them in fact, but he wants these moments for himself, for the girls to be able to look at afterwards and remember exactly how they felt as it was happening. 

As he sets up his tripod he’s glad he allowed the sound engineer, Silena, to convince him his video gear would be safe with her. It seems as though the more Percy trusts the people around him the better off he is, and he makes a note to himself that the only way he can possibly survive these next nine months is if he follows the lead of those around him who actually know what they’re doing. He’s finally able to take his earplugs out as well, and he’s expecting the absolutely garbage acoustics Terminal 5 is known for to have muddled the purity of the music, but all he can hear is one of his favorite songs in perfect clarity. He gapes at Silena and she glances at him, sending him a confused smile, and all he can do is shake his head in awe of her. She is the da Vinci of sound tech and Percy intends to let her know when this is all over, once she’ll be able to actually hear him. 

At the end of the show Percy gets the shot the band asked him about earlier in the day, a gorgeous moment full of pure joy drowned in confetti. The girls stand in front of the stage, link hands, and take their bow, and Percy gets as many photos as he possibly can before they part and start waving and throwing things into the crowd. It’s then that he gets his absolute favorite photo of the night—Annabeth has a cheek-splitting smile on her face, her flannel abandoned and her hair up in the messiest bun he’s ever seen as she hands her drumstick to a fan against the barricade who is screaming about how much they love her. The way their hands are so close to touching on the drumstick but not quite meeting reminds Percy of  a Michelangelo painting , and he has a thought that Annabeth is infinitely more stunning than anyone could ever capture, Renaissance genius or otherwise. She turns and faces him, then, and for a moment she is still smiling, but one look at the camera in his hands and her face twists into a frown. She seems self-conscious, suddenly, looking a bit like a trapped animal, but she finishes throwing her sticks into the crowd with a tight smile and heads off the stage with the rest of her band. 

Immediately after the lights go up, Grover and a crew of some of the most jacked women Percy has ever seen head for the stage to gather the equipment. There is celebration all around, and Percy takes some photos, careful not to take any of Annabeth alone. He figures there must be a reason why she was uncomfortable earlier, and he doesn’t want to make it any worse. He would put his camera away altogether but Piper asked him earlier to capture the energy of the band and crew after the first show of the tour and he feels compelled to oblige. He’s laughing a bit as Reyna grabs Thalia in a kiss and Hazel throws herself at Annabeth, cooing about how _cute_ their best friends are. Annabeth just holds Hazel closer and, in a tender moment, kisses the top of her head. Percy really cannot help himself and takes a photo of their backs as Annabeth leans her cheek on Hazel’s head. Thalia and Reyna are in the background mimicking their pose, and it is half hilarious and half heart-warming—Percy may or may not be filled to the brim with love and warmth for the people before him, despite only knowing two of them for less than 12 hours.

The celebration fizzles out as the girls race each other in a battle to get to the two showers the venue offers first, and the crew takes all the equipment out back. Percy gathers his belongings from the sound booth and thanks Silena for her help, but she just waves him off. She’s intimidatingly beautiful, but her features are soft and round and her eyes are so warm that it’s difficult to feel anything but comfortable around her, so Percy works up the courage and compliments her work.

“It’s just—I’ve never been to a concert here that didn’t sound like absolute shit,” he explains, and she’s laughing, and it’s infectious. “But you made it sound like tracks playing from a record, it was so fucking clean.”

“Thank you, Percy,” she says gratefully, still laughing a bit. “Glad to know that my physics degree is put to good use here.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Holy shit.”

And she’s laughing again as she gathers her belongings. Percy offers her a hand since she seems to have her hands full but she waves him off and lifts her soundboard effortlessly, despite it being absolutely massive. It’s then that he notices how muscular her arms are, and as he looks at the stage he finally recognizes that the entire crew is all women, save Grover and himself. He knows there’s a lighting engineer called Leo wandering around somewhere, and with a start he realizes that he’s actually never seen a female crew member in all his years of tagging along to shows with Hazel or dragging his friends along for himself. 

He wonders why that is—while Percy likes to think that he’s physically fit, he doesn’t believe for a second that he’d be able to lift two massive amps at once and navigate around a busy backstage area the way the woman in front of him is as he trails behind her, looking for Grover. He sees a wire wrapping around her leg and before he knows it he’s crying out for her to stop, grabbing the wire so she doesn’t trip and break her neck. He seems to do more harm than good, though, because she startles, almost loses her balance, and nearly drops the amps in the process. She sets them down and whirls around to face him, and Percy thinks he may have shit himself. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” she growls at him, and he blanches.

She is nearly his height, built sturdy and strong, and her biceps are probably twice the size of his own. He would be in awe of her if he wasn’t worried that she was gearing up to kick the shit out of him.

“I’m sorry I—there was a wire and you were about to trip so—”

“I _saw_ that wire, you imbecile. Who even are you?” 

He relaxes at that, because it’s familiar territory, and he hopes he can take this conversation in a more cordial direction.

“Oh, I’m Percy Jackson,” he introduces, sticking out his hand. “I’m the new photographer.”

She glares at his hand and turns back around, picks up her amps.

“Stay out of my way, Jackson,” she calls over her shoulder, and it sounds more like a threat than a request.

He purses his lips and drops his hand to his side, huffs out a breath. So perhaps this woman whose name he doesn’t know hates him. He tries not to let it bother him, has plenty of experience with people who don’t particularly care for him anyway. He decides he’ll give her her space, stay out of her way as she requested, and try not to be so hate-able. 

Suddenly there is a man a few inches shorter than Percy and a whole lot skinnier standing beside him, with his hands on his hips. Silena appears to his left and he looks between them in confusion, as they truly came out of nowhere.

“Don’t mind Clarisse,” the guy says, waving his hand dismissively. “She hates everybody.”

“Except me,” Silena chirps happily, and her point is proven when the woman from earlier—Clarisse—comes back inside and sees her.

Her features immediately soften and Percy thinks her cheeks get a bit pinker, but then her eyes fall on him and she’s scowling furiously. 

“Play nice, Clarisse,” Silena sings, and Clarisse grimaces distastefully.

“He got in my way,” she grumbles, and Silena laughs that bell-like laugh of hers, moves over to her friend and throws an arm around her. Clarisse visibly relaxes under her touch.

“I’m really very sorry,” Percy apologizes. “I thought I was helping.”

Her grimace returns with a vengeance. “Of course you did. I know how to do my job, alright? I don’t need you interfering with it.”

He nods once, shutting his mouth tight before he accidentally puts his foot in it. Silena pouts at Clarisse and she softens once more, but then ducks out from under Silena’s arm.

“I’m going to finish doing my job,” she announces, giving him a firm look. “We should all stick to ours.”

Percy nods again, thinks his brain must be having a great time shaking around in his head from all the movement, and Clarisse shoves past him, no doubt leaving a bruise on his shoulder. Silena smiles and spreads her hands as if she just negotiated the world’s greatest peace deal, then walks right out of the venue and leaves Percy with the man he figures must be Leo the lighting engineer.

“Anyway, are you a snorer? Because I really can’t do snoring—I’m a light sleeper,” maybe-Leo says, and Percy’s hunch is confirmed.

“I have never been told that I snore,” he responds, and Leo nods, claps him on the shoulder.

“Great, we should get along fine, then.”

And then he’s gone, and once again Percy is left alone. He feels like he’s losing his mind, just trying to find his friends, but he’s surrounded by strangers who work for the venue and the people in band’s crew who he doesn’t know yet and everything is very confusing and a bit overwhelming. 

It doesn’t stop being confusing or overwhelming either, not even when Percy finally figures out where to put his things, or when he’s dragged onto the band’s giant tour bus, or when everybody is taking shots except for him. There is triumph in the air, the result of a job well-done, and the crew is toasted to, one by one, as is the opening act, a duo that consists of two brothers who Percy is told are _not_ twins despite being nearly identical—Travis and Connor Stoll. Percy can’t tell them apart, and he doesn’t have it in him to try, because the bus is very loud and Hazel is getting to a stage of drunkenness when she becomes very touchy feely and has taken to climbing up onto Annabeth’s lap, hanging onto her like a koala on a tree. Percy laughs at this, finds himself reaching for a camera which is not there. 

He watches the people around him, some of them his friends, some of them total strangers, and he wonders when he became a passive observer in his own life. When did it become second nature for him to hide behind his camera rather than engage with others, especially the people he loves so dearly?

Piper, Grover, Hazel, Thalia—he can’t shake the feeling that at some point he left them all behind. He knows he was choosing to follow his dreams, and he doesn’t regret the incredible opportunities he has had over the years. But looking at them now, seeing what they’ve become, without him, it sets a clamp over his heart and he feels it squeezing tighter and tighter until he’s sure it will break. 

He thinks it may be broken already. 

Suddenly and immediately Percy needs air, he needs quiet, a place to rest his pounding head, so he makes his way off the bus and leans back against the side of it. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, that he should be inside with his friends, but he’s scared it’s too late to be a part of their lives in any meaningful way and it’s easier to hide from that reality than to face it and try. He sinks down to the ground and shuts his eyes, rests his head on the bus behind him, and he can hear the people he loves and the people he doesn’t know living lives that are loud and joyful and complete. 

Piper appears at his side quite suddenly, startling him, and then she’s throwing her legs over his lap and speaking with him as if she has no idea about what’s happening inside his chest, behind his forehead. He can’t bear to look at her for fear she mind find out, but she holds his face with one hand and forces him to look her in the eyes, and he knows that she sees exactly what he is feeling in this moment, and she is determined not to let it get any worse. He feels his throat constrict and then she’s hugging him tightly, as if she’s trying to squeeze the pieces of him back together. She doesn’t know that he is already caught in a vice and all the pressure he’s under is threatening to crack him right in half. 

But he hugs her back, because he hasn’t been able to for so long, and he notices that when he’s the one doing the squeezing, his burden lets up,  if only for those few precious moments. 

Maybe, he thinks, he will start doing it more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last things:  
> -Clingy Hazel gives me life and no she will not be going anywhere she is here to stay  
> -The pace of the story will be picking up after this and there will be time jumps to keep the flow of the story going  
> -The self-indulgent late 80s-early/mid 90s music references will probably not end here I'm sorry but I'm a slut for a good sociopolitical analysis of the music scene especially during that time  
> Once again, thank you for reading! It means the world!


	3. the shades go down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Chapter deals with feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt  
> -No explicit mentions of mental health issues but they are implied and will be addressed more fully in coming chapters  
> -Little bit of POV switching but I make exceptions for Sally Jackson  
> -Chapter title from the song Daughter by Pearl Jam  
> Hope you enjoy!

_ March/April _

The first two weeks of tour go off without a hitch. As they started in Manhattan, the band does a couple of shows upstate and then begins making their way down the East Coast. They have the day off to rest in Baltimore, now, and Piper brings news that the band gained however many tens of thousands of followers on both Twitter and Instagram overnight after the _NME_ interview was published. Percy is shocked at the audacity of the interviewer but not surprised that she chose to twist the story to make the band (especially Hazel and Reyna) seem like a group of divas who refuse to talk to the press. Lucky for them, she is just as oblivious as she is racist, because she left in Hazel’s talk about how the band gets misrepresented due to her and Reyna’s presence. Obviously their responses must have resonated with those who read the interview because there is an outpouring of support for Reyna and Hazel both and the journalist apparently gets suspended for what she wrote, along with the editor who let it go to print (undoubtedly because it made the magazine look bad and for that reason only). 

Piper’s announcement is followed up with a plan: she wants to do individual profiles on each member of the band in order to properly introduce them to their new fans, and Percy will be at the forefront of the project as photographer and artistic director, whatever that means. They are on the band’s bus, everyone including Grover and Leo, and Percy raises his hand to ask what the hell Piper is talking about. She points her rolled up magazine at him to let him know he can speak, and he clears his throat.

“What the fuck is an artistic director?” he asks eloquently, and Thalia snorts.

“The artistic director, my dear boy,” she begins, and Percy scrunches up his nose distastefully, “is responsible for directing the art.” He stares at her blankly and she sighs through her nose. “Set them up, make them look nice, choose a vibe, go for it, it’s all you, kid.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks, Pipes.”

She shoots him some finger guns and Reyna raises her hand next. Piper points at her.

“Do we have to?” she asks, and Annabeth lifts her hand as well.

“I second that,” she says.

Piper lets out a huff.

“You two are the most antisocial, closed-book bitches I have ever met,” she informs them, and Leo laughs out loud, his mouth full of chips. 

Percy reaches across Grover to take some out of the bag and Leo swats his hand away, so Percy whacks him in the nose with the back of his hand. They had become comfortable with each other almost immediately after spending one night in the van together—they had woken up curled around each other for warmth, and so the rest was history. Leo licks the hand that Percy used to smack him with and Percy recoils, accidentally elbowing Grover in the process. Grover intertwines his fingers with Percy’s and Percy raises his eyebrows at his best friend, who whispers under his breath that he will break Percy’s arm if he keeps reaching across him like that. Percy kisses Grover’s head. 

“Yes, you have to,” Piper clarifies. “Boo hoo, getting your picture taken is _so hard_. Wah, wah, wah. Do you have any _valid_ questions?”

“Why are you such an insensitive witch?” Reyna remarks, and Annabeth smirks.

Piper throws her hair over her shoulder and lifts her chin.

“Someone has to do it,” she responds haughtily, and Hazel raises her hand. “Yes, my sweet child?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

Piper swats at her with her magazine while the rest of the band snickers and Percy allows himself a grin. 

“None of you deserve me, I hope you realize that,” Piper states. “Get out of my sight, now; I can’t stand you.”

“I would like to note that I have been nothing but respectful this whole time,” Grover says.

Thalia coughs out a “suck-up” and Percy is surrounded by children, himself included, because they are all giggling like a bunch of 5 year-olds. Grover takes his hand back from Percy in offense and Percy pouts.

“And for that you will be rewarded, dear Grover,” Piper says, spreading her hands. “You get to pick what we eat for dinner tonight.”

“Oh no,” Percy mutters.

“Yes!” Grover exclaims, throwing his arms in the air triumphantly. “There’s this great vegan place off of Thames Street that—”

He gets cut off when they all start booing at him, but he is unperturbed, and he stands up to shake his ass in all of their faces and tells them all to kiss it. 

Part of Percy is excited to take the day off and spend some quality time with his friends that isn’t constantly interrupted by running around and sound checks and drunken post-show escapades. He’s grateful to be back with them, there’s no doubt about that; he just hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that he’s too far behind them to ever really catch up. There are inside jokes he’s not a part of, references he doesn’t understand, and he finds that more often than not it becomes easier to sit back and watch rather than actively participate. It’s a hard habit to break, despite his earlier resolve to fix it, but he can’t help it, and he can’t stop the vice in his chest from tightening with each passing day. He is aching and he is in pain and he wants so badly to reach out but there is an invisible force that Percy cannot name holding him back, and he doesn’t know if he has it in him to fight it.  So he retreats, and he picks up his camera in the hopes that if nothing else, it will prove to maintain some semblance of a connection between him and the people he loves.

Everyone around him is making plans, deciding what they want to do for the day. Hazel is arguing for a walk along the waterfront, Annabeth is talking about seeing the facades of the Baltimore Basilica, Reyna wants to go to her favorite pie shop (she’s very into baking, apparently) and Thalia just wants to find a tattoo parlor so she can pierce her tongue. Piper has resigned herself to plopping down on the couch and working on her laptop, which is hardly a day off, and Leo won’t stop talking about some fudgery. Percy has had his heart set on the aquarium for days and he is about to remind Hazel that she owes him for saving her ass in New Jersey when she ripped her pants doing a split in a public park, but then Grover stands up and whistles and everyone quiets.

“There’s no use in yelling,” he says. “We can do all of those things—we have all day and night, people. There is a whole city in the palm of our hands, the world is our oyster, the day is young—”

“I’m not looking at some water when I could be putting a hole in my tongue,” Thalia argues, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t we just split up?”

Hazel gasps, then. “ _No_ ,” she says, as if it’s the most offensive notion in the world. “No we cannot. Today is about family bonding. We have to stay together.”

Thalia throws her head back and groans. 

“I’ve been bonding with you for two weeks straight, just let me have a day with my girlfriend alone, in _peace_ ,” she complains, and Hazel purses her lips.

“Oh, it’s romantical?” she asks, and Reyna grins.

“Yes, Hazel, it’s—romantical,” she responds. “We’re gonna get our tongues pierced and elope.”

Hazel pouts and Thalia pats her cheek lovingly, and then she and Reyna are on their way out. 

“Don’t forget your brother is meeting us for dinner tonight!” Piper calls after Thalia, but she just waves her hand dismissively as she goes.

“And then there were 6,” Leo announces, dropping his voice an octave in an attempt to sound ominous.

“I have to do paperwork all day, actually,” Piper chimes in from her spot in the corner.

“And then there were 5,” he amends, undeterred, and Annabeth frowns.

“Piper, you have to come with us,” she insists. “It’s tradition.”

Piper sighs and looks up at her friend. 

“Sorry, kid, I’m swamped. I’ve gotta get this all done by tonight otherwise we will not be able to cross into or come back from Mexico with all our shit.”

Annabeth pouts and her eyes fall on Percy, then drop to the camera around his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere with that,” she says, pointing at him, and he knits his eyebrows, offended.

“Excuse me?” he responds, one eyebrow raised.

They haven’t spoken since the night of the first show. Every time Percy is nearby, Annabeth either goes mute or leaves the room. He initially thought it was about the camera and how she seemed uncomfortable with photos, but she bolts even when it’s just hanging around his neck innocently. He has no idea what he did to offend her, make her act in such a way, and it’s hurt him more than he cares to admit.

“Percy’s a _him_ , not an _it_ , _Annabeth_ ,” Leo defends dramatically, placing his hand over his chest. 

Her eyes widen.

“I didn’t mean—not you—your camera. Either it stays or I stay,” she says, correcting herself, and Percy frowns.

His camera has become his clutch recently, an escape for him when the guilt comes creeping in. It’s ironic, really, considering it’s the entire reason he feels that guilt in the first place. It’s a bit of an unbreakable cycle, Percy hating himself for hiding behind his camera, Percy feeling like an outsider around his friends, Percy relying on his camera to be there for him when he can’t bring himself to reach out, Percy hating himself for it, and on and on and on. He holds onto it a bit possessively, and his words come out before he can stop them.

“What’s your problem with pictures, anyway?” he blurts out, and the bus quiets. 

He feels his eyes widen and Annabeth narrows her eyes at him.

“I’m sorry I—”

“Maybe it’s none of your business,” she snaps, and he feels a pang go through him. “Maybe you should just respect when people tell you they’re uncomfortable instead of pushing forward and questioning why.”

It is so silent you could hear a pin drop, and then Annabeth is standing up and stalking off the bus. Hazel looks like a dear caught in headlights, her dark eyes wide and unblinking, and Percy feels just the same.

“Oh, I’m an asshole,” Percy exhales, rubbing his face.

“You’re not an asshole, you just have no filter,” Grover says as he pats Percy’s shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“Gee, thanks, man.”

Hazel sighs. “Annabeth’s a little…weird about being…famous. Half-famous. Whatever. I’m gonna…” she trails off and then heads off the bus, ruffling Percy’s curly hair before she goes.

Piper sighs. 

“Bit of a wild card, that one,” she breathes, looking pointedly at Percy. 

He feels a bit strange under her gaze, almost like he’s been violated, and he doesn’t like the look on her face one bit. 

“Not unlike you, I suppose,” she adds after a brief moment.

Percy knits his eyebrows.

“I love having my photo taken, I think I’m objectively gorgeous,” he responds, and Leo snorts as Piper rolls her eyes.

“Your head is full of mulch,” she informs him, and he pouts. “Too much time spent with the foxes or whatever the fuck it is you do.”

Percy gasps in offense and throws a pillow at her, but she blocks it before it can hit her.

“Can you all leave now? I have work to do,” she says, and Percy looks to Leo and Grover.

“Looks like it’s the fudgery for us, boys,” Leo says, standing up and stretching. He wipes his pants down to get rid of any chip crumbs and Piper glares at him as he does.

Percy doesn’t really think he deserves to get to enjoy the aquarium after how rude he had been to Annabeth, so he doesn’t argue with Leo’s plan. He cannot believe he had been so unfeeling and insensitive, all in the name of what? Defending his stupid social crutch? The thing that has become his only means of survival but holds him hostage in a cage of passivity and fear? But no—the camera doesn’t hold him hostage. He holds it hostage, uses it as he sees fit, blames it for the flaws in himself he’s so unwilling to address. Maybe he’s being dramatic, but he feels shame well up in his chest, and the vice tightens, and there is too much pressure on him already to also support the weight of the object around his neck, so he forces himself to leave it behind. 

A moment of relief, a breath exhaled a little bit easier.

-

Percy attempts to apologize to Annabeth multiple times over the course of the next week, but she is as icy and distant as ever. If he hadn’t been such an insensitive dildo, he thinks, they could move on from this. It’s not just the fact that he sees the vivid grey of her eyes any time he shuts his own, or the fact that her golden blonde hair curls like a princess’s or how breathtaking she looks right before she steps onto stage, regal and timeless and alive. He wants to be able to at least get along with the people around him, but so far he has made it onto Clarisse’s shit list, he hasn’t had any real breakthrough with Reyna, and Annabeth now hates his guts. It’s not exactly a fun time, but Percy didn’t really agree to be a tour photographer to have fun—mostly he just wanted to be able to pay his rent and get out of his tiny apartment that had been feeling increasingly claustrophobic with each passing day.

He sighs, sitting backstage at a venue in Atlanta, using Piper’s iPad to take notes for the shoot he’s doing today. Piper insisted that Reyna be the first to go in the yet-to-be-named profile series, and Percy wants to make sure everything is just right. He doesn’t want to tell her what to wear or how to style her hair, because it feels disingenuous and staged, and the whole point of these profiles is to get to know the band members, not the person who planned the shoot. When he told Reyna as much she smiled at him, genuinely, for probably the first time ever, and he allowed himself a moment to think that maybe there was some hope for them yet. 

She had seemed much happier ever since their day off in Baltimore, when they all met at the vegan restaurant Grover chose and she and Thalia had arrived, breathless and giggling. Thalia, _giggling._ It was a sight that shocked even her brother Jason, who was in town on business at their father’s request. 

“Why are you so… _giddy_?” he asked, seemingly offended, and she shrugged. 

“Yeah, what have you two been up to all day?” Piper questioned, narrowing her eyes at the pair.

“We got our tongues pierced and eloped,” Thalia responded simply, and while everyone groaned and told them to grow up Thalia turned to Percy and flashed him her tongue, which was very much pierced. He noticed Reyna had stuck to liquids all throughout dinner as well. 

He is just finishing his last notes as Annabeth enters the room, headphones on, a sweaty mess. Her drumsticks are nowhere in sight but she’s dressed like she’s been exercising. She hasn’t noticed him yet, so Percy keeps his head down and tries not to get in her way, working quietly until she turns around and jumps.

“Gah!” she exclaims putting a hand over her chest. “You’re always fuckin’… _lurking.”_

Percy purses his lips. Maybe he’s too accustomed to waiting in the shadows for his subjects to come out of hiding so he can snap their portrait. Maybe he’s kept himself in that position for too long to break out of it.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and she exhales a heavy breath.

“No, I’m sorry. Sorry,” she says, and he looks up, knitting his eyebrows in confusion. She’s scratching her forehead. “I haven’t exactly been…hospitable to you. Or forgiving. I just—I’m so embarrassed about how I acted last week that I haven’t had the guts to face you, I guess.”

It’s the most she’s spoken to him in weeks and his mind is reeling. He feels like he should speak up but he’s frozen in place, and she takes his silence as a sign to continue.

“Anyway, I’m sorry I freaked out at you about the picture thing. It wasn’t even a big deal, I just—reacted, I guess. So, yeah. Sorry for being so rude.”

He gapes at her.

“ _You_?” he asks in shock. “You weren’t rude at all, you were right. I was totally out of line, it was none of my business—I should’ve respected what you were saying instead of questioning it.”

She shrugs half-heartedly, offers him a small smile.

“You get a little defensive about your stuff, don’t you?” she asks, almost shyly, kicking the ground in front of her.

He feels his cheeks heat up. 

“A bit,” he admits. “It’s embarrassing but I just—don’t touch my shit, you know? Or tell me what to do with it.”

She laughs lightly, and he feels the pressure in his chest let up, just a bit. Enough room to breathe.

“I get the same way. I don’t let anyone set up my kit. If Grover so much as breathes too close to my hi-hats I flip my shit.”

Percy laughs as well, perhaps a bit too hard, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t realize exactly how much tension he’s been carrying around with him lately, the vice in his chest having become so familiar as to have faded into the background. He was grateful for it at first, the habituation—now that some of it is gone, though, he can’t believe how much he’s been missing out on. It’s like being stuck inside a ventless room all day until someone finally opens up a window and you realize you could’ve been breathing fresh air the entire time.

“Anyway, I guess I won’t be able to escape it anymore, now that Piper has her mind set on these profile things,” she remarks, and he softens at the anxious look on her face.

“I’m sorry about that,” he tells her. “I can try to convince her out of it.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal, really. I’ll live.”

“You shouldn’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable,” he says firmly, and she looks at him with wide eyes, surprise written clearly all over her face. He knows he’s blushing. 

“I mean—sorry. But you shouldn’t,” he says softer, and she’s observing him intently, as if he’s a puzzle she’s trying to figure out. 

It makes him a little uncomfortable, but he’ll take it over the cold shoulder any day. 

“Thanks,” she mutters finally, holding onto the headphones around her neck. 

It seems like she’s about to say more, but then Piper comes into the room yelling about how Reyna is two seconds away from making a break for it and telling Percy to get his ass out there. She freezes when she sees Annabeth, though, and looks between the two of them suspiciously.

“Oh,” she finally says, straightening. “So you two are done acting like children, then?”

Annabeth flips her off and leaves the room, shooting Percy a sly smile behind Piper’s back as she goes. Percy grins and Piper raises her eyebrows at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, well, well,” she begins, but Percy is packing up and doing his best to ignore her. “It seems as though our hot young singles have finally buried the hatchet.”

He glares at her.

“Stuff it, McLean,” he grumbles, but she just smiles even wider. 

“Oh, I knew it! I knew you would fall in love with the girl the second you laid eyes on her, and I _called it_. I told Hazel, I _told_ her—”

“I am not in love with her, Piper, first of all,” Percy interrupts. 

“Could’ve fooled m—”

“Secondly, shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “People can _hear_ you.”

She smirks triumphantly, like that’s all the confirmation she needs. She mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key and Percy gives her the same gesture Annabeth did earlier as he makes his way out to meet Reyna.

She drives them downtown, to an area she knows well from all the times the band has been here. Percy had told her to pick a location that resonates most with her, some place she feels the most comfortable. They arrive at a long walkway of murals and art painted on the facades of old buildings, and Percy asks her questions as she leads him down the path before them in order to solidify a final plan in his mind for the shoot.

“This is incredible,” he remarks. “How’d you find this place?”

She shrugs. “Felt like going for a run once. Ended up here, stayed for far too long, almost didn’t make it back in time for the show.” She smiles widely. “Piper nearly had an aneurysm. It was a great day.”

Percy laughs and she grins.

“What about the area speaks to you?” he asks quietly, and she stops in front of a particularly chaotic design, observes it as she hums in thought.

“I don’t know, honestly. I do love art, and I love the idea of having an open, free space for people to enjoy it,” she begins. “More than that I think it was just a place that I ended up coming to in a time of need. It was here for me, and it surprised me, and I was so wrapped up in it that I totally forgot why I’d gone for the run in the first place. It grounded me.”

He nods. “Can I ask what it was that sent you off running?”

She exhales through her nose. 

“My sister and I—there was a period of time when we didn’t talk very much, weren’t in contact. She owns a major record label, and I didn’t want to rely on her to get a deal. I wanted to make it on my own, and she couldn’t understand that, and she was trying to force the band to sign some bullshit contract where we would have to relinquish our creative rights. We got into such a horrible argument.” She shakes her head, and takes a deep breath, then faces him, and he gives her his full attention. “Wouldn’t you want to forge your own path, and to become successful by your own hand? To know that every ounce of recognition you gain is the result of your hard work and your hard work only, not nepotism or connections or whatever other bullshit?”

He nods. “I would.”

She nods as well, then turns back to the mural before them.

“All I want in the world is to make music with the people I love, and to use my platform for good. I can’t claim to be a champion of the people if I use my billionaire sister to get to the top. It feels wrong. It feels like…like…”

“Like cheating.”

She looks at him and nods again, and he has an even greater respect for the woman before him now than he did before. 

“That’s why you refused Hazel for so long, isn’t it?” she asks him, and it feels like a steel fist to his gut.

He swallows and knits his eyebrows, turns to face the mural.

“Part of it, yeah,” he responds, his voice thick. “I couldn’t…I dropped out of school. It was my sophomore year, and I couldn’t take it anymore, I thought I might go crazy. I dropped out, and I spent a year and a half building a portfolio, sending my work all over the place. Hazel kept telling me to just take the gig with you guys, to join the team.” He shakes his head. “As much as I love her, and as much as I wanted to—I mean, I _really_ wanted to, Reyna.” 

He turns to her then, and he sees the understanding in her eyes. They’re not so dissimilar after all. 

“It killed me, saying no to her for so long. I was sick with guilt, because I knew how much it meant to her, and I always felt like I was missing out on everything. I guess…I guess I still do sometimes, even now. But I had to prove to myself that if I was ever going to make a name for myself it would be because of the time and the effort I put in, and not because I was lucky enough to have a best friend in a band who could pay my way through it.”

“People like us aren’t very fond of taking the easy way out, are we?” she says, a small smile on her face, and he knits his eyebrows in confusion. 

“People like us?” he questions and she sighs.

“People with something to prove. People who like to think that they do what they do for themselves and themselves only but really have an itch to show the world that despite the bullshit, they’re above it all. That they’re capable. Maybe we had different experiences that made us this way, but at the end of the day we have to show the ones who doubted us that we made it, and we did it all on our own.”

He purses his lips, and he can’t deny that she’s absolutely right. She takes his silence as a tacit agreement.

“So why accept the offer now?” she questions, folding her hands behind her back. 

She looks regal and stately, like a Roman emperor. She’s chosen a simple outfit, ripped black jeans with a sleeveless turtleneck tucked in, embroidered Docs. Her hair is braided simply over her shoulder and Percy cannot understand how she makes something so casual seem so elegant. Firm, reliable, no-nonsense. Something to prove.

Percy sighs and knits his eyebrows.

“The last trip I went on…I was working with National Geographic. We were just in Alaska, it wasn’t anything crazy. I was gone for three months and it was three months of fucking darkness for hours on end and you would see the sun for maybe eight hours at a time, tops. I just had to sit in the dark and wait for things to happen, and I guess in all of that time I started thinking about how much I missed everyone, my friends, my mom. I realized that I’d spent the last five years just drifting farther and farther away from them and I couldn’t figure out why, anymore. I’ve always loved my job, and I still do, but I just hated everything about what I was doing. I needed a change of pace I needed—family. I needed my family.”

It’s a half-truth at best, but it’s the most he’s ever been able to admit about the last trip he’d taken. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to admit anything more, but sharing this much with her is the best he’s done in weeks. Her gaze softens at his confession, her eyes becoming warmer, the corners of her lips turned upward subtly. He tells her to hold that expression as he picks up his camera and it falls off her face immediately, replaced by confusion. Percy laughs and she chuckles, apologizes.

“Did you just tell me that sad story to get a good picture out of me?” she teases, and he grins widely.

“I have my methods,” he responds cryptically, and she rolls her eyes at him, grinning in amusement.

The shoot goes quite smoothly after that, as Percy learns more about her and her interests. She’s a runner, which is obvious from her agile form; she enjoys baking, particularly cake decorating, because it’s delicate work that requires a steady hand and focused mind. Everything about her is entirely fascinating, and Percy is grateful for how open she is being with him even as he takes his photos. He hardly has to direct her, and he’s taken back to the first time he ever took her picture at soundcheck, when she was standing poise and steadfast. She is the same way now, without even trying, effortless in her majesty. As he’s taking her photos he is asking her questions, and suddenly an idea comes to him, a way to perhaps take the pressure off the band so much and bring in the crew. He finds himself excited at the prospect of developing the thought, the first time he’s really felt so strongly since the day Grover called him in a panic, asking him to join the team. It’s enlivening, fills him finally with an emotion that isn’t dread or shame or longing; he cannot wait to share his plans with Piper.

When they return to the venue they have about two hours until showtime, and Reyna stops him outside the doors.

“I wanted to ask, do you think you could help me with a gift for Thalia? It’s our 10-year anniversary in June and I want to do something special,” she says, and his eyes bulge.

“Ten years?” he exclaims, and she stares at him blankly.

“You’ve known her for longer than that, you know how long it’s been.”

“Yeah but when you say it out loud it sounds absolutely insane.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Are you going to help me or not, Jackson?” she asks, and his heart warms.

“Aw, you called me Jackson,” he coos, and she groans and shoves him aside, throws open the doors.

“You’re the worst,” she calls over her shoulder, and he can’t help the massive smile that overtakes his face.

The vice in his chest is forgotten for a few moments, and it’s not because he has gotten used to its presence.

-

Sally Jackson was born Salwa Jayyusi in a Palestinian refugee camp outside of Amman, Jordan. When she was 7 years old her parents died in a car accident, leaving her an orphan, passed along to her closest relatives. It became difficult, though, to feed her on top of so many other children, their _own_ children, and a message was passed along to her mother’s brother, who had established himself in the United States, that this should be his responsibility. She was a burden now, and despite her family’s love for her it became a matter of survival. Her saving grace turned out to be that very uncle, who took pity on the child who reminded him so much of his sister. He decided to bring her back with him to the States, and that is when he chose to change her name to Sally Jackson. 

It’s easier to go through life in a country where your name is palatable to the people around you, no matter how different you may look, he reasoned. They can’t butcher the pronunciation or try to take away the legitimacy of you belonging. They know you as Sally Jackson, and who could hear the name Sally Jackson and say that she wasn’t 100% born and bred American, even if she may still roll her Rs despite all her practice, can never pronounce the word kindergarten (kinnygar-in), and has skin that’s dark like a ripened date, smooth and glowing, always glowing. 

Your name is Sally Jackson and your life is easier when you apply for jobs and you always get an interview, when you get called by a nurse at the doctor’s office and are spoken to as an equal, when you’re sitting in class and no one can mock the sounds and syllables that tell them who you are. Salwa Jayyusi of Ein Karem becomes Sally Jackson of the Upper East Side. Life gets marginally easier, despite the color of your skin and the lilt of your accent, little things are easier to bear. It seems simple, obvious. Change your name, renounce your culture, fall in line with the West. 

That’s what her uncle intended for her, at least. To give her some semblance of reprieve in a place he knew was unforgiving and unrelenting. The moment he changes her name he teaches her how to survive in a world that does not look fondly upon those who are different, or worse —those who are different and cannot adapt. It is a lesson she carries with her throughout her life, a lesson she relearns each and every time she responds to her new name.

And she has a son, and she names him Perseus, Greek, and then—Percy, to make it easier. Anything to make it easier. But he has her dark skin and her thick, curly hair, and he will struggle as she did, but his name is Percy Jackson and that is the most she can give him. It’s all she can do, as she holds him close to her chest, brand new to the world, barely able to open his eyes. His name is Percy Jackson and she will protect him as she was protected and his life will be better than hers. His life has to be better than hers. It’s a promise she whispers against his skin as she kisses his head and he wraps five tiny fingers around one of hers. He is hers and he will always be hers, and she will protect him until the day she dies. She will protect him even once she’s gone, and she will do it each and every time she calls his name, Percy. Percy, to survive. Percy, to have a better life. Salwa Jayyusi becomes Sally Jackson, and Sally Jackson names her only son, the only thing in the world that will ever matter to her again, Percy. A promise. 

It’s a promise she repeats into the phone when she picks up on the first ring, relief clear in her voice.

“Percy, _habibit qalbi_ ,” she breathes out. _Love of my heart_. A promise.

“Hi, Mama,” he says, and the vice in his chest gets a little looser. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, _hayati_ , I really do.” _My life_. He is what makes her life worth living. But more than that, more than a term of endearment, he _is_ her life, as sure as the air that fills her lungs with each and every breath.

She sounds wistful and lonely and Percy wants to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close to his chest, the way she used to do for him. She would push his hair back and kiss his forehead and whisper his name, whisper her love, and he would fall asleep in an instant, safe in her arms.

“Even if you couldn’t even say goodbye to your own mother,” she begins, and Percy winces. 

_Here we go_ , he thinks, and he prepares for the inevitable. It has been weeks and he has spoken to her countless times, but she likes to keep him on his toes, he knows, to remind him of where he came from. 

“You’re gone for three months doing God knows what and you come back for a week, you come over for _[shai](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arabic_tea)_ and _[knafeh](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kanafeh)_ _ once _ and then you leave for another nine months. You can’t even kiss your mother goodbye, huh?” 

She sounds amused and he knows that she’s just pulling his leg, but he still hasn’t forgiven himself for it.

“Mama I’m sorry, I know,” he pleads. “But Grover said it was an emergency, I couldn’t just leave Hazel all alone without any help.”

“Hmph,” she huffs teasingly. “Well I guess I can forgive you, since it was for Hazel.”

He smiles a bit, grateful that she’s not the kind of mother who can rant for weeks on end about the betrayal of missing a proper goodbye (she’s one who will bring it up sporadically, to tease him, but for nothing more than that). It is a big deal to him, though, and she knows this, so she relents—she doesn’t need to place anymore burden upon his shoulders, not when he does it to himself already.

“I love you, Mama, _anna asef_. I love you.” _I’m sorry_. Hope spoken into a receiver, traveling hundreds of miles to her ear. Forgiveness isn’t easy for him, especially when it comes to forgiving himself. She will do it for him, then, she will take on his burden here, too.

She sighs, resigned to the fact that her son is growing and living his life and doing what children are supposed to do, leaving the nest, establishing themselves. But it’s a Western dream, a dream she wants no part of anymore, now that it means the one person in the world she loves so infinitely is missing from her. He’s supposed to come back to her, to be there for her as she was for him. That’s the way it is back home and that’s the way it should be, here. But he’s still far too young to bear that responsibility—so she will take care of him, and she will do it even when he decides it’s time to come home to her. They haven’t exactly been traditional in that sense, anyway; they lean on each other, worry about each other, are there for each other, always, because there is no one else for them. There is only Sally and Percy Jackson in a world full of people who are so quick to write them off. But they will always have each other. It’s all either of them needs. They are each other’s promise. Steady and sure and safe. Home.

“I love you too, _habibi_ ,” she says. _My love_. Every ounce of it, born from every fiber of her being, belongs to him and him alone. “How is Hazel, how’s Grover, how are my kids?”

He smiles widely, rubbing his chest over his heart, missing her so deeply he thinks he might implode. The vice tightens twice as hard.

“They’re good, the band is incredible,” he tells her. “Hazel is such a star, she’s like—she was born to be on stage, you know?” His mother hums in agreement and he continues. “Grover’s been really good, too, he hasn’t been having any flare ups, so he’s strong as ever.”

“ _Alhamdulilah_ ,” she says. _Praise be to God_. Gratitude, for keeping the people she loves healthy and well. “And how is my favorite son?”

He grins, but it falls soon after, and he finds himself struggling to put into words exactly how he’s feeling.

“I’m okay,” he responds quietly, and it’s not a _total_ lie. “I just…I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“What’s wrong, _habibi_?”

He sighs through his nose. 

“I don’t know. Kind of everything?” He laughs humorlessly and rubs his hand over his face. “I thought being on the road with my friends would make me feel better, it would help, but lately I just…I feel so behind everyone else, if that makes sense. They all know who they are and what they’re doing and I just…I get a job that takes me away from all of you for however long it may be whenever I might get called, and it’s totally out of my control. I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above the water and I can’t even complain because it was my choice, I decided to take this path, but. It’s not even about the money, it’s just—I feel lost, Mama, like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. And I was so sure before but now it’s like I’m doubting myself about every little thing.” He frowns and feels his throat start to close and suddenly his vision is blurry and everything sucks. “Sorry, I don’t want to worry you. I’m fine, really, I’m okay.”

“Percy Jackson, don’t you dare lie to me,” she demands, and then the tears are falling from his eyes but he is doing his best to keep his breathing steady. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, _hayati_? Why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling?”

Her voice is gentle and warm and full of concern and Percy is in physical pain, his chest constricting more than he is able to bear. He lets out a sob, quiet and shaking and his mother gives him his time, lets him take as much as he needs.

“I didn’t even know how I was feeling,” he admits. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Mama. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing, _habibi_ , nothing is wrong with you. You’re 24 years old, you’re not supposed to have everything figured out. You’re still a kid, you’re still finding your way, and that’s fine, _ya qamri_ , that’s normal. You have nothing to fear, you have your whole life ahead of you.” _My moon_. Light in the darkness, hope in the dead of night. She prays that she can light the way for him in his time of need, the way he always has for her, by doing nothing more than being her son.

“That’s what scares me most,” he admits. “I have a whole life left to fuck up and I just—I don’t know if I’m cut out for this anymore, I don’t know if I can do it.” She’s silent as he wipes at his face and sniffles. “Do you—do you think I made a mistake, dropping out of school? I know you were upset about it, I just—do you think I did the right thing?”

She sighs. “Percy, I was only upset that I didn’t know how much you were struggling,” she tells him. “All I wanted was for you to be happy, to be okay. Maybe I was a little afraid that it might set you back, but you’ve worked hard, _ya qalbi_ , and you’ve come so far.” _My heart_. The beating in her chest, the one that keeps her steady, the blood in her veins. “National Geographic is a big deal, not to mention all your other work. Why can’t you be proud of yourself for the things you’ve achieved?”

He sniffles and wipes at his nose.

“It just doesn’t feel like I’ve achieved anything at all,” he croaks, and the tears flow freely once more. “I couldn’t even—couldn’t even tell you, couldn’t talk to you for months, and I can’t talk to my friends now. I don’t know what I’m turning into, Mama, and it’s so hard. I feel like an animal, I feel trapped.”

“ _Habibi_ , breathe, okay, just breathe with me for a little bit.”

And he is about to, he really is, but there’s a noise behind him and a voice spitting out a curse, and he jolts upright from his spot on the ground beside the van to find Annabeth wide-eyed, caught.

“Percy?” his mother says in his ear, but he is far too concerned with the prospect of being overheard and—oh fuck, he’s _crying_. “Percy, is everything alright?” He is still frozen in place, unable to answer. “ _Ya walad_ , what’s wrong?” _Boy_. Chastising out of fear, concern, an aching worry that longs to be soothed.

“I’ll call you back, Mama. Love you,” he mutters, and she sighs heavily, somehow a breath of relief and frustration simultaneously.

“I love you, _hayati_.”

And then it’s just him and Annabeth, her cheeks flushed and her balance off. She’s drunk, or at least she’s getting there, which is to be expected after the incredible show and after-party celebration they had that night. She seems not to know what to do with herself, so she goes to lean on the van but misses by several inches and falls over, letting out a yelp of surprise as she goes. 

Percy rushes forward and catches her before she smashes her head against the back doors of the van and gives herself a concussion. And then all he can register is how close they are, how her skin is feverishly warm, how her breath smells like vodka and cranberry juice and her nose is covered in hundreds of freckles and her eyes are wide and so dilated that their usual smokey hue is almost entirely engulfed in the black of her pupils.

“You okay?” he asks, lifting her upright, and he means to let her go, but when he does she nearly falls over again, so he keeps hold of her. 

He tries to keep as much distance between them as possible but drunk Annabeth has no qualms about personal space and latches onto him tightly. He may be having trouble breathing.

“You’re crying,” she breathes out, and pokes a tear on his cheek. She knits her eyebrows, concerned, and frowns. “Why?”

He’s not sure how to respond, not sure if he even should, given her state. There is a very real possibility that the second he tells her what’s on his mind she will immediately forget it and maybe fall over again. It feels like all the more reason to open up, but he doesn’t want to have a one-sided, drunken heart-to-heart with her. No — if he is going to do this, it will be for real, and they will both be of sound mind, and it will be because she wants to get to know him. Because she cares, not because she’s drunk and doesn’t have a filter.

“Allergies,” he lies, and she knits her eyebrows further.

“You sounded so sad,” she mutters. “Made me sad, too.” She uses the same finger she poked his cheek with earlier to push one corner of his mouth up. “Smile. Feels better.”

It’s amusing enough to get a tiny grin out of him and it seems to satisfy her well enough, because she smiles brightly in response. The moment passes quickly, though, because suddenly she is pushing Percy back and then vomiting on everything within a three-foot radius. That happens, unfortunately, to be within Percy’s range, and soon his shoes are covered in puke and there is nothing to do but hold Annabeth’s hair back for her until it passes. 

Once it does pass he manages to get her back onto the bus, where nobody is nearly as drunk as she is, except Thalia and Clarisse. He discovers, as he and Hazel help Annabeth clean up, that the two most competitive people on the bus challenged Annabeth to a drink-off, to see who could best hold their liquor. Clarisse apparently won, which comes as absolutely no surprise to Percy, Thalia had passed out much earlier, and now everyone knew what became of Annabeth. Hazel takes over her care and thanks Percy with a sweet kiss on his cheek, which is when he knows it’s time to back off and get out of her way. He feels a knot of worry take root in his stomach for Annabeth, but Hazel is nothing if not entirely dedicated to her friends’ well-being, so he knows she is in good hands. 

As he moves through the bus he passes Grover, who reaches his arms out to Percy, opening and closing his fists like a child who is begging to be picked up. Percy sighs and carries his friend off the bus bridal-style, despite the fact that Grover is barely drunk and is entirely capable of walking himself. Maybe Percy wants to feel useful, somehow. Needed. 

Percy texts his mother as he lies beside Grover in the van, his best friend snuggled closely to his chest. He tells her he is okay, not to worry, that he will call her in the morning, and even sends her a voice note featuring Grover to prove that he is in good hands. The last thing he wants to do is worry her at such a late hour, to worry her at all. He feels horrible for unloading everything on her earlier, knows that she is struggling enough already. She does not need his added burden, on top of everything she is already dealing with, all on her own. He will be strong for her when she asks, he will stay firm and steady as she does for him. If Sally Jackson could sacrifice everything—including her own safety, for years—to give him the life he has now, he will appreciate every ounce of it, will never take it for granted. This is the last she will be hearing about his issues, which are trivial in comparison to what she has had to bear.

Salwa Jayyusi is the most formidable woman in the world, and her son will stand just as steadfast, for her sake. It's a promise he repeats to himself a thousand times over as the world moves blindingly around him and he is left standing still.


	4. please stand by the shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take a moment to share a few resources right now. Breonna Taylor's killers have not been indicted for her absolutely heinous murder, and it is absolutely crucial that we continue to educate ourselves and fight for justice. If you'd like to get involved, here are a few links:  
> https://www.standwithbre.com/  
> https://blacklivesmatter.carrd.co/  
> https://dotherightthing.carrd.co/
> 
> Quick notes/warnings:  
> -There are moments of exploring emotional distress, dealing with guilt and feelings of inadequacy  
> -There are very brief references to past trauma, which will be dealt with more fully later  
> -Chapter title is from the song Oceans by Pearl Jam
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_April/May_

Spring is a time for healing. That’s what Percy’s mother always tells him, at least. Winter comes to a close and with it goes the icy, inhospitable weather that makes it so difficult for life to thrive. The snow melts, the sun shines a little warmer, the flowers start to bloom. The city is brought back to life in the spring; the cherry blossoms flower in the park and the days start to stretch out, long and full of light. You take a deep breath and your nose doesn’t burn from the cold—the air is soothing and it fills your lungs with warmth and brings you peace, serenity. 

Percy feels as much as he sits on a crumbling concrete wall at a rest stop somewhere in Alabama. As he tilts his head back to soak in the springtime sun he recognizes the tightness of his chest and doesn’t try to fight it off, anymore. He feels guilt and he feels longing and he feels pain that he realizes has been there for a very long time, longer than Alaska, longer than Grover and Hazel and anyone except his mother, who knew him before it all. He has resigned himself to the fact that despite the years, despite all the time that has passed, the pain still rests there and it goes beyond the things he was in control of, beyond the guilt and the longing and the feeling left behind. He has to learn to live with it now, he has to let it be, because denying it has only ever made it worse. Ignoring it, an option he relied on for years, worked well enough—at least, he thought it did. Until it didn’t. Until Alaska. 

If something so fleeting and inconsequential could cause it to come out now, full-force, clamping down on his lungs and chest and heart so intensely that at times he thinks he might get crushed like a tin can, then obviously pretending it isn’t there will never truly help him. His only problem now is figuring out how to live with it, to deal with it. Figuring out how to be. If nothing was ever normal for him, how does he go on living a normal life? He doesn’t think it’s possible, really. But he figures he should try. For his mother, if for no one else. 

He exhales deeply, feels the warmth of the morning light beating down on his cold cheeks and wishes, for a moment, that he could stay here forever, basking in the rays of the sun. Tall grass rustling in the wind, dragonflies and hummingbirds and an endless nap. To rest his eyes amongst the creatures he loves so much he feels the need to immortalize them in film, keep them forever frozen in time. Like Mother Earth lying down for rest and forming mountains in her wake, he could sleep. 

But then there is movement beside him, a warm body humming right at his side and he remembers that he is not Mother Earth but a man with a vice in his chest and a home to return to. 

“So I have a proposition for you,” the voice beside him says, breaking his silent reverie. 

He turns his head to face the sound and opens his eyes to find Annabeth at his side. 

She doesn’t look nearly as hungover as Percy expected her to be, and she’s maintaining a strange composure, her features relaxed but her posture stiff, her foot shaking back and forth almost violently. He knits his eyebrows in confusion but smiles a bit, squinting from the sun in his eyes. It illuminates her from behind and he can’t help but think that she looks like a goddess, glowing and golden and emanating light. 

“I will tell you why I hate pictures so much if you promise to forget last night ever happened,” she continues, and he cannot help the massive smile that overtakes his face for the life of him.

“Last night?” he questions, feigning confusion. “What in the world happened last night?”

The tension in her shoulders relaxes, finally, and she turns towards him, folds her leg beneath her to do so. She may be smiling as well. 

“I don’t want to be seen by people who don’t deserve to know where I am or how I’m doing,” she tells him, and he nods. 

He’s waiting for her to say more, but she seems satisfied having given him that explanation. It only brings up more questions, but he will not make the mistake of disrespecting her privacy twice.

“That’s fair,” he responds. “I promise I won’t personally put the pictures I take of you anywhere. Can’t really say the same for Piper, though.”

She raises one shoulder half-heartedly. 

“I learned a long time ago that there’s no use in arguing with a determined Piper McLean,” she remarks, and he grins. “Anyway, I’m in a band with a fairly large following so I can’t really expect anything less. Can’t be faceless forever.”

He purses his lips in thought.

“Would you like to be? Faceless, I mean?”

She shrugs again, and he has a feeling she doesn’t do this very often, doesn’t talk about the things that make her uncomfortable. That makes two of them. He can work with that, for the sole reason that it’s familiar to him, common ground — an understanding. 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I think so—I don’t need a face, only a name. Let my name go down in history, not the vessel that it represents.”

He tries to process what she has just said to him but he comes up blank, finds himself speechless. A drummer and a poet. A name without a face. 

“Well, fuck me,” he finally breathes out, and she laughs a bit and kicks at his ankle gently.

“Sorry I puked on your shoes,” she apologizes, looking down at the spot where her knee just barely brushes against his hip. “That was uncool.”

He shrugs dismissively. She seems to be rubbing off on him.

“I needed to get rid of those anyway. They were old and raggedy. I’m all about new beginnings.”

She grins at him, scratches at her cheek as she scrunches up her nose. She is as adorable as she is fierce and he wants to capture every facet of who she is but he knows without a doubt that there is not enough time in the world to do it. So he settles for this, for witnessing it play out before him, and he scrunches up his nose, too. An understanding. 

“I think I’d like a new beginning, if you wouldn’t mind giving me one,” she mutters, and he sticks out his hand.

“Percy Jackson. Nice to meet you,” he says, and she is smiling a smile that makes his heart pound against the vice in his chest with a force that rivals all the pressure that sits  there—work done on the system, energy expelled. 

“Annabeth Chase,” she responds, taking his hand tentatively, shaking it. 

It is warm and her palms and fingers are rough with callouses, sores now healed over after years of impact and friction and a firm grip that never once wavers. He could hold this hand for ages, he thinks. He could memorize every bump and plane and ridge and patch of old, hardened skin until it becomes as familiar as the texture of his own, until he cannot discern where one begins and the other ends. But then she slips her hand out of his and he has never longed for the awkward formality of a handshake more in his life.

“So, Annabeth Chase,” he begins, “what brings you to East Jesus Nowhere?”

She snorts loudly at that, probably more out of surprise than anything, and then she slaps her hand over her mouth to quiet the sound, her eyes wide.

“You did not just hear that,” she says, and he does his best to suppress his smile.

He bites the inside of his cheek, trying really very hard, and she glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it, and he can’t help it—he cracks, and she huffs and turns her face towards the sun.

“I’m not laughing at the sound,” he manages to say. “It was the look of abject horror on your face.”

She turns to face him then and he sees that she is smiling slightly, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I think my ugly snort-laugh is objectively the worst sound in the world,” she informs him, and it physically pains him to hear it.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he tells her. “There are much worse sounds.”

“Yeah?” He nods. “Let’s have a list, then.”

He holds up his hand and counts off on his fingers.

“Shampoo bottle falling in the shower, nails on a chalkboard, the fire alarms in dorm buildings, Thalia trying to hold a note, track pants rubbing together when you walk.”

She purses her lips, looking as though she’s having a very difficult time holding back a smile. She scratches her nose and exhales a half-laugh.

“Alright, fair enough,” she says. “What about Hazel when she realizes someone ate her leftovers?”

His eyes bulge out.

“Holy shit, how could I forget? She could break fuckin’ glass with that scream.”

She laughs a bit and Percy smiles, and he realizes she is really very easy to talk to. Maybe a bit too easy, because suddenly his mouth is moving before his brain can stop him.

“Anyway, I don’t think your—snort-laugh?—nearly compares to any of those vile sounds,” he begins. “I think it’s actually very cute.”

He feels his eyes widen and his face heat up and he sees a faint tinge of pink on Annabeth’s cheeks. She clears her throat and turns away from him, and he just wishes he could knock himself silly. He wonders, belatedly, if she remembers anything from the night before aside from puking on him, and he sends a silent prayer to the heavens that she has no recollection. That would be the final straw in terms of how much embarrassment Percy could handle in front of Annabeth Chase.

“Obviously your standards for cuteness are very low,” she finally says, then turns to him and offers him a shy smile. “But thank you.”

He smiles back at her, and for a few moments they share a comfortable silence that makes Percy think he could get used to this, to being with her. He would do it forever, he realizes, if only she would let him. But already she is turning forward with a gentle sigh, becoming a side profile, a fraction of the story. He wants to hear it all. He wants to see it all, too, but this is too fresh and it took so long just to get this far and he will not jeopardize this progress for his selfish impulses. So she will remain to him what she wishes to be, for now. A name without a face.

—

Percy has seen his fair share of beauty throughout his life. He has been traveling and photographing nonstop for five years, and he has borne witness to natural phenomena that most people dream of. He has shot the Northern Lights from a glacier in Greenland, he’s watched endangered blue whales breach with their newborns, bringing hope for the future of their species, he has witnessed a panther’s hunt through trees over 100 feet tall, and not a single one of those things holds a candle to the sight before him now. It is 6 a.m. and against the backdrop of an incredible sunrise, one blended with pale pink and lilac and the soft orange glow that only a spring morning can produce, Piper McLean has just rejected Jason Grace’s romantic advances for what is officially the 1500th time by shoving the cupcake he bought her directly up his nose. Percy knows it is the 1500th attempt because Jason bought the cupcake in celebration of reaching a milestone on the way to 10,000—all because somewhere around attempt 23 Jason had asked her how many times he would have to beg her to go on a date with him before she finally agreed. Most people would take the blatantly outrageous number she offered him as a firm rejection but Jason Grace was nothing if not determined (and hopelessly in love with a woman who wouldn’t give him the time of day). After over 4 years of pining Jason insists it is all a running joke, but Percy knows that he hasn’t stayed single for so long in the name of parody.

Now, before Percy’s very eyes, Jason is choking and sneezing and Piper stands triumphant in a field of lavender and soft grass that is tall enough to reach her knees. Percy is laughing hysterically, because although he loves Thalia’s younger brother there is nothing more entertaining than each and every interaction between Jason and Piper that he has the good fortune to witness.

Hazel and Grover sit on either side of him, Grover wincing in sympathy, Hazel doing her best to suppress her giggles. It’s 6 a.m. and fog moves lazily over their feet and Percy is infinitely grateful that Grover insisted they wake up to watch the sun rise over the hills.

“Nothing like a Mississippi sunrise,” he had said, and it took very little to get them all to agree.

Grover can be incredibly convincing when he wants to be, but he doesn’t really have to—when it comes to witnessing nature’s beauty there is no one Percy trusts more to deliver on their promises than his best friend. He has traveled almost as much as Percy, for a different purpose; Grover likes to say that his full-time job is actually environmental activism, which is true enough. He has gone all over helping organize and mobilize grassroots movements to fight against deforestation, fracking, climate change, and to build support for protection of Indigenous lands. Once again he comes through on his promise of a gorgeous view, never one to disappoint, and Percy feels familiarity and contentment wash over him in slow waves, gentle and encouraging. 

He could feel like this all the time, if he let himself ask for help. He could think everything was as breathtaking as the sight of Jason trying to blow cream cheese frosting out of his left nostril while Piper pretends the soft smile resting on her lips is one of amusement and satisfaction rather than gentle affection. But asking for help means making his problem known, it means placing the burden of his struggles on the shoulders of those who don’t deserve the trouble. So he will smile and laugh when peace finds him, wrap his arms around his best friends, pull them into his sides tightly, to feel them ground him, for as long as he can. 

Jason gives up trying to clean himself off and takes to plopping himself down in the tall grass, splaying out on his back. Piper’s smile widens now that his eyes are closed and he cannot see her and when she meets Percy’s gaze she winks, strolls over to Hazel’s other side, settles between her and Annabeth. Thalia, whose hair is now half purple, walks over to her brother and sits next to him, pats him on the chest.

“Better luck next time, kid,” she laughs, and he seems to be smiling as well.

“Remind me again why you continue to be the most stubborn human being alive?” Annabeth asks Piper, and Percy turns to look at them.

“He dated my _sister_ , Annabeth,” she responds. “I’m so not into my flesh and blood’s sloppy seconds.”

“Okay she was your step sister for like 6 months,” Percy corrects, “and that was 5 years ago. Also it only lasted 3 weeks.”

Piper’s face hardens as she looks out before them, and Percy thinks perhaps this all means a bit more to her than she has ever let on.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still wrong. I am no one’s second choice.” 

“Jason’s too pretty anyway,” Hazel remarks. “It’s unsettling. If you’re gonna date a man, he needs to be uglier. Keep you on your toes.”

Piper cracks a smile at that, throws her arm around their friend’s neck and knocks her temple against Hazel’s. Percy is smiling maybe a bit too widely. Grover sighs contentedly and rests his head on Percy’s shoulder, so Percy leans his cheek on top of Grover’s mess of curls. Reyna is reclining peacefully against Grover’s side, silent and pensive, and Leo is snoring (and drooling) on Reyna’s knee. The rest of the crew is a couple of hours behind schedule, their bus having gotten a flat tire on the road, so for now they are just a group of best friends, old and new, finding peace in this little field in Mississippi. 

It is 6 a.m. and Percy thinks it’s not the view or the entertainment or the misty greenery that makes this moment so beautiful, but the company of the people he loves most in this world, that he has come to love, and will come to love in the days that follow.

—

The first time Percy met Hazel he was 7 years old, and she was 5. He had the day off from school because of some teaching convention, so his mother brought him into work with her at the candy shop on 41st and Madison. She had asked him to go around and fix a display table to make it nice, appealing, just trying to give him something to do with all his pent up energy. He was so excited about being given a task that he bolted out from behind the counter and slammed directly into a little girl with her hair pulled into two massive buns and a lollipop in her hand that was bigger than her head. They both ended up falling down fairly hard, and she started crying, a loud, horrible sob that wracked her whole body. Percy felt so sick with guilt that he started crying, too, and soon both of their mothers were stepping in to calm their children down. Once Hazel realized Percy was crying too, though, she stopped immediately and offered him her lollipop as a comfort. He shook his head, ashamed of himself, and instead helped Hazel up and let her work with him on the displays.

“You can make it look however you want,” he told her, wiping the last tears off his face. “The prettiest thing you can think of.”

She smiled brightly at him, then.

“I wanna make it look like you,” she said, and he laughed so hard he nearly fell over again.

His hysterics led her to have a giggling fit of her own, and the rest was history.

They would end up having multiple playdates a week, either at the park or Hazel’s apartment, where they would play with her half-siblings Nico and Bianca. Whenever he and Hazel were together they were totally inseparable, and as they got older and could manage phones and computers they would constantly be talking or IMing. It was the golden age of best friendship for them and despite going to different schools their whole lives they always, always managed to come back to each other. Whenever he would think about it once they were older he would remember the day he knocked down that poor little girl as the best day of his life, the first time he ever felt grateful for his clumsiness and tunnel vision. 

He thinks about it now, as he and Hazel drive around El Paso to find a place for her shoot. It’s her turn to be profiled now that Reyna’s, Silena’s and Grover’s installments have been posted. Piper wants to keep them coming in week-long intervals, focused get-to-know-me's that span five days on instagram, each day accompanied by a different snippet of conversation between Percy and his subject, something that would make the fans feel as though they knew the band and crew well. Hazel is singing along to Taylor Swift, using her phone as a mic, and as they round a corner she shoves it into his face, and—who is he, really, to deny her the Percy Jackson vocal experience? Soon they’re both belting out the lyrics to Love Story as if they lived it themselves and it is moments just like this that soothe Percy’s aching heart because he loves this child with everything in him and making her happy is his favorite thing in the world. 

Suddenly she gasps and yells at him to pull over, and he slams on the brakes as he pulls onto the shoulder of an incredibly busy road, terrified.

“What, what, are you okay, what’s the matter?” he asks, panicked, and she points.

“Rose garden, we have to do it there,” she says excitedly, and he loves her to death but he also wants to kill her.

“Demon spawn,” he grumbles, and she elbows him.

“Play nice, Perseus.”

He feels a chill go through him at the sound of his full name and stares at her with wide eyes.

“Do not,” he warns, and she smiles with her eyes closed, satisfied with herself.

“Perseus Bilal Naser Jackson,” she croons, and he groans. “PBNJ.”

“Fuck you.”

She laughs hysterically at that, totally pleased with herself, and Percy makes a mental note to call his mom and whine about how she betrayed her only son just to make some little beast happy. He finds a place to park and they head over to the rose garden. Hazel seems to be busy texting someone and she walks ahead of him as they cross the street despite the large, blinking sign that says STOP, and Percy grabs her by the back of her overalls and pulls her onto the sidewalk with him right before a car comes speeding past. She gapes at him, her eyes wide, and he feels his heart beating out of his chest.

“What the fuck, Hazel,” he breathes. “You nearly died.”

“You—you just—holy shit.”

He examines her, holds her shoulders as he looks her over. It’s fairly useless, because nothing even really happened, but it’s difficult for Percy to unlearn the things his childhood taught him about looking for injuries that might not seem obvious right away. 

“Are you okay?” he asks her, meeting her eyes, and she nods.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” she mutters. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime, kid.”

She exhales a deep breath through her nose, and then she’s doing her best to suppress a smile, and he knows he is about to burst as well, the anxious energy that’s bubbling up inside him begging to be let out.

“Guess that’s what I get for bringing up the cursed initials,” she says through her massive smile, and Percy laughs so hard his stomach aches in the best way possible. 

It’s not even that funny, really, but his nerves are shot and the more Hazel laughs, the more he does, on and on in a cycle of hysterics. Eventually they make it to the rose garden, safe and in one piece, and when they get to a particularly gorgeous walkway, surrounded on both sides by rosebushes, Hazel immediately begins doing cartwheels down the aisle. 

Percy never feels better or more comfortable as he does when he gets to take photos of his best friend. She can’t take a serious photo to save her life, but he knows how to work with that—don’t make her stand still, follow her lead, make sure to shoot from a lower angle so she doesn’t feel as intruded upon. It took him a while, in the beginning, to master the art of capturing Hazel on film, but once he did, it became his favorite challenge of all. Moving subjects are great practice, especially when you want to be taking pictures of wild animals who will stop for no one. In her own way, Hazel had been preparing Percy for his life’s work before either of them ever knew he would end up where he did. 

He thinks that’s a fairly accurate portrayal of their entire relationship, with Hazel always helping him in ways he doesn’t even realize until after the fact. It even happened that very morning, when Percy woke up feeling like absolute shit, and Hazel had thrown the van doors open and demanded that they get to work on her shoot that instant. Now, as she does a headstand on a bench surrounded by yellow roses, Percy is breathing easier than he has in weeks.

“So what should we talk about to let the fans get to know you?” Percy asks her as she jumps off the bench and lands on the ground like some sort of grunge superhero. 

He gets the picture just before she moves and she shrugs as they walk, holding onto a fence post as she swings around it. 

“I don’t know,” she says, and he purses his lips.

“What made you get into music?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Come on, Perce, you know the answer to that question.”

“Yeah, but the fans don’t.”

She blows a raspberry. 

“I don’t feel like talking about that right now,” she says, and she’s frowning a bit as he takes the photo.

He puts his camera down and knits his eyebrows. 

“What’s wrong, Hazy?” he asks, and she holds him with an incredibly serious and intense gaze.

“My best friend won’t talk to me,” she responds. “About anything.”

He frowns. “Who? Are you fighting?”

She gapes at him like _come on, dude_ and the realization dawns on him far too late. He fidgets with his camera and looks over her shoulder at a particularly thorny rosebush. There are more thorns than flowers, he thinks, which is definitely how it’s supposed to be, but it’s unsettling nevertheless, and makes the few white roses on the bush stand out even more sharply. He thinks there must be a metaphor in there somewhere but he's not exactly in the right headspace to see it.

“Did you talk to Sally or something?” he asks, still looking at that damn bush, and he glances at her to see her roll her eyes.

“Do you think I’m blind? I don’t need to talk to your mom to know something is wrong, Percy,” she responds, and he offers her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and she rolls her eyes at him and takes the camera off from around his neck.

“Hey!” he protests, trying to reach for it, but she holds it firmly and moves out of his reach.

“No cameras. You’re grounded until you tell me what’s going on with you,” she tells him, and he inhales deeply through his nose, his nostrils flaring.

“Hazel, give it back.”

“No. You’re acting like a big baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is _wrong,_ just—”

“Then what’s right?”

It feels like a slap in the face, being doused by a bucket of ice water. It has been probably years since either of them have used that line on each other, and hearing it now takes him back to times that he would rather not remember. The question is a method they developed when they were kids, to try to get the other person to talk about what was going on with them. Neither of them had particularly easy home lives, but they were able to find comfort in each other. The first time Percy ever asked her that question was when her parents were in the middle of their divorce, and she couldn’t seem to put to words how she was feeling. Anytime he asked her what was wrong she just kept saying _nothing_ , until finally he thought to ask her to tell him the things that were right. And she listed them all and if Percy thought something was missing he would say so and she would say _no, that’s not right_ and that was how they would figure out what was really bothering her. It was convoluted and roundabout and it took forever but Percy was 9 and he figured he had all the time in the world—besides, he would spend his whole life talking to Hazel if he thought it would make her feel better, even for a second. 

“Percy?” she repeats, taking his hand, and he takes a deep breath and meets her eyes.

“This,” he tells her, and she smiles a soft little smile that warms his heart. “Taking your picture. Spending time with you.”

“It’s right for me too,” she says, and he can’t really put into words how much that means to him. “What else?”

“I’m wearing my favorite shoes.” 

She nods, encouraging him to continue, and he swallows. 

“That—that’s it.”

“Traveling with your best friends?” He nods. “Meeting new people who you have come to love?” He nods again. “Making a living doing what you love?” 

He shakes his head, and her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead in surprise. 

“Not right,” he mutters, and she pulls him over to a bench so they can talk out of the way of people who are just trying to mind their own business and enjoy the roses without having convoluted heart-to-hearts.

“What about it isn’t right?” she asks quietly, still holding onto his hand, and he frowns.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I just—I feel really…inadequate lately, I guess. I don’t know if I’m cut-out for it.”

“ _You_? Not cut-out for photography? Percy, you’ve been doing it for more than half your life, you’re the most talented person I know.” 

He shakes his head, looking down at his camera resting in her lap.

“I’m—not. I’m not.” He takes a shaky breath. “And I sacrificed so much and I don’t—maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“And what’s that?” she asks, leaning her head down to make eye contact with him, and he meets her gaze.

“Everything,” he says. “Hazel, I—I was so weak. I dropped out of school because I was too stupid—”

“That’s not true—”

“—I left my mom for a year and a half to build some bullshit portfolio—”

“That portfolio got you your National Geographic gig—”

“—and I left—I left _you_.” The truth is out now, right out in the open, and Hazel stares at him in shock as he continues, rambling like a madman. “I left you, Hazel. After everything that happened with Bianca and after I promised you—I promised you I would always be there for you but I wasn’t. I left and you needed me and you asked me to stay and to help you with tour and I _left_. I can’t believe I did that to you, even now, it makes me feel sick. Five years, I was in and out of your life for five years like some fuckin’ deadbeat who couldn’t manage to stick around and—and—I can’t forgive myself for that, I just can’t. And looking at you and being with you physically _hurts_ because I’ve missed out on so much but I—I deserve it. I deserve it because it was the choice I made and that choice wasn’t even worth it.” 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Hazel holds his face in her hands and wipes his tears away with the pads of her thumbs. He shakes his head and feels hopeless, like a pile of shit, and she forces him to hold her gaze, holding his head in place.

“Percy, I need you to listen to me, because I’m only going to say this one time,” she begins. “The only person here who has a problem with you is you. What happened five years ago means jack shit to me now, okay? I forgive you. I never had a reason to be upset with you to begin with. I understood then, and I understand now, okay? You need to forgive yourself. You need to stop beating yourself up for something that doesn’t even matter.”

“It wasn’t just once five years ago, though,” he sniffles. “It was every time you asked. It was any time I came back and left again.”

“You really think I could hold that against you? Ever? Percy, I would never, ever be upset with you for following your own path. You did what you had to do, you busted your ass and it paid off. You have nothing to feel guilty for, Percy, nothing at all. You don’t ever have to apologize for taking care of yourself and working hard, ever.”

He shuts his eyes and wipes at his face, and she helps him out once more, then pulls him into a hug. He may be an entire foot taller than her but she is undeterred as she forces his head onto her shoulder and wraps her arms around him like a vice. This vice is a welcome one, though, and he hugs her back, pushing against the pressure in his chest, refusing to let it win. 

“I’m sorry, Hazel,” he mutters, and he feels her shake her head.

“Shut up, you dumb dummy. I’ll kill you,” she responds firmly, and he laughs, and she laughs until they stop, and Hazel is running her hand through his thick, curly black hair. “You feel responsible for everyone’s happiness but your own,” she mutters. “You push what you want and need to the side to make room for all the people you love, and you’ve been doing it so long that you don’t even realize you never stopped to take care of yourself.”

She pulls back from him and holds his shoulders and his gaze with equal force, grounding him.

“You need to start taking care of yourself, Percy. You need to let go of your guilt and live your damn life before you realize you spent it all behind this stupid fucking camera. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

He knits his eyebrows and nods, sniffling.

“I understand,” he mutters. “It’s easier said than done, though. It’s hard.”

She nods as well.

“I know. But I’m gonna be there to remind you, all the time, and I’m gonna fucking dropkick you if you don’t listen to me when I tell you.”

He laughs, then, and she smiles and pats his cheek twice. 

“You have a beautiful laugh,” she coos, and he rolls his eyes and takes his camera back from her.

“You have a beautiful smile,” he says right back, in the same sickly sweet tone.

“Thank you, I know.”

He grins and she scrunches up her nose and squeezes his between her knuckles. He does the same to her and, like many things in their lives, only they know what it means: _I love you even if you’re a big dumb idiot sometimes._ It’s reserved for moments like these, when Percy needs to be reminded that his friends love him and he is in fact being a big dumb idiot, and other moments, like when Hazel once tried to do a somersault on the beach and cut her knee open on some rogue sea glass. Either way, the sentiment is clear, and Percy knows that with Hazel by his side that evil fucking vice that has taken a permanent hold over him will become a little easier to bear. It won’t go away, because some things aren’t as simple as having your friend’s love and support, but it will help. Hazel will be there for him, just as she always is, and starting now, he will work on being there for her again, properly this time.

“I know that this isn’t all that’s bothering you,” she tells him once they let go of each other’s noses. “But I’m glad you told me regardless. And we’re not done having this conversation.” He nods and she pushes his hair back from his forehead. “And I’m always here for you, you know. Always.”

He nods and kisses the top of her head, pulls her into his side.

“I know,” he mutters. “I love you a lot.”

“I love you a lot. So do Piper and Grover and Thalia. And Leo, and even Reyna, now—you weaseled your way in.”

He smiles slightly. “Three fourths of the band ain’t half bad, I guess.”

She sighs. “Oh, please, you so have Annabeth, too.”

He raises his eyebrows, his cheek resting against Hazel’s head, and tries not to betray any emotions.

“You think so?” he asks. “She’s kind of…tough to figure out.”

“She has approximately 3,000 walls up and each one is sturdier than the last,” Hazel begins, “but you’re at least a hundred down, which is saying something.”

He laughs a bit and she pulls back from him to grin up at him.

“You like her, don’t you?” she asks, almost nervously, and for a moment he panics internally until he realizes that is _not_ what she means, and he relaxes. 

“Yeah, I think she’s cool. Insanely talented. Kinda scary, but I’m used to that.”

Hazel smiles brightly at him, then.

“Good. I’m glad.” She kicks at the ground, then, looking down at her scuffed boots. “I was kind of scared you wouldn’t get along with my friends. I don’t know why, it’s…stupid.” He knits his eyebrows and she looks up at him. “Your opinion means a lot to me, Percy. Like, more than anyone else’s, except maybe Nico’s.”

He smiles warmly at her and she purses her lips and kicks at his ankle.

“Well your opinion means a lot to me, too. It’s you and Sally tied for first, kid,” he informs her, and she smiles. He pauses and purses his lips, decides it’s time to open up. For her. “That’s part of why…I haven’t really been talking to you about everything, I guess,” he mutters, and she knits her eyebrows in concern. “I guess I was scared you’d think less of me, or something. If I told you how I was feeling.”

She gives him a look, then, and he knows he was being, in their words, a big dumb idiot, but it’s hard to think straight when you everything you do reminds you of the things that make you feel absolutely worthless and talentless and less than.

“I could never think less of you, for anything you did Percy,” she tells him earnestly, and he knows that she believes this, but he also knows that he hasn’t told her everything, and he very highly doubts that. Shame wells up in his chest as she continues. “You could kill a man and I would still think you hung the moon.”

He swallows and shakes his head.

“Don’t say that,” he mutters. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” she responds, and she says it with such conviction that it takes him aback. “I know it because you’re my brother, and I love you, and you would do the same for me.”

“Of course I would,” he says, and she gapes at him.

“There you have it. I’m allowed to love you too much if you’re allowed to love me too much. It’s only fair.”

He half-smiles at that, despite himself, and she grins and knocks her knee against his.

“I’m really happy you knocked me over and made me cry,” she mutters. “I got a second brother that day.”

Percy feels his heart swell in his chest, and he simply cannot contain the love he has for her any longer.

“That is simply the _sweetest thing_ you have _ever said_ ,” he mutters, doing his best not to start crying again. 

He cannot stand to fall apart again and so he fights off the tears by annoying the shit out of her instead. He grabs her in a hug dramatically, yelling about how much he loves her, and she groans and tries to shove him off.

“Percy, stop,” she whines, but she’s laughing.

“My sweet, sweet, child, my cinnamon apple, my sugarhoneypie—”

He is cut off when her elbow catches his ribs and he grunts and releases her.

“Just let me love you, you bastard,” he complains, rubbing his side, and she pouts at him.

“Let me love you first.” He scrunches up his nose and she nods. “You’ll let me, won’t you? Promise you won’t stop letting me in?”

She sticks out her pinky and he wraps his own little finger around hers, and they both kiss their fists.

“Promise,” he mumbles, and she nods and releases his hand.

“Good.” She pauses. “Would you like to take this time to talk about anything else?”

He shakes his head vehemently and she narrows her eyes at him but concedes after a few moments.

“Come on, then,” she says, standing up. “Time to make me look cooler than I actually am with your 15 years of photography experience that have made you the best in the game.”

He knows why she’s saying it and he rolls his eyes, but once he stands she puts her fists on her hips and looks at him as if she’s waiting for him to challenge her. He won’t, not because he agrees, but because he feels rubbed raw already and he’s not sure he can manage another heavy conversation just yet. Instead he lifts up his camera and tells her to say cheese, and in response she crosses her eyes, pulls her upper lip over her teeth and tucks her chin into her neck. Percy manages to get the photo before he loses his absolute shit, and she grins widely and leads him through the rest of the garden. 

He’s not entirely sure how he feels, following everything that has just happened. He knows that he is incredibly grateful for Hazel, for her love and her persistence and her ability to know when he needs a kick in the ass. The guilt he feels for leaving her is still there, but knowing that she understood, knowing that she fully supported him, helps alleviate some of it. He feels better about his earlier conviction to learn how to deal with the clamp over his sorry heart, now that he knows Hazel will be by his side, and while he knows it will take time and support he allows himself to feel some semblance of hope that there may come a time when he doesn’t constantly feel like the weight of the world is pressing down on his chest. Right now, at least, as he follows her through rows and rows of flowers and thorns, that weight doesn’t feel so heavy. 

So he takes his best friend’s pictures, and he allows himself to live in these moments of joy with her, knowing that despite the aching that presses against his sternum, this is the freest he has felt in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be coming in less frequently (around once a week vs. every few days like it is now) because applying to grad school is no joke and it is ~killing me~  
> Again, thank you so much for reading! It really does mean so much!


	5. you say you wanna stay by my side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes/warnings:  
> -There is a very brief discussion of sex but it is not at all explicit  
> -Chapter deals with chronic pain, acute pain and discusses the effects of autoimmune diseases  
> -Chapter title is from the song Someday by The Strokes
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_May/June_

12,000 degrees. It is 12,000 degrees outside and Percy is dying, drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his back, soaking. Percy wishes, as he glares up at the desert sun, that he hadn’t been so distracted by his thoughts as he drove down a roadway in the middle of the desert in New Mexico, following the band’s two buses to reach Albuquerque. He’s not even sure what he was thinking about, really, and—okay, that’s a lie. He was thinking about Annabeth, and how after their show in El Paso she’d sat next to him at the after-party and talked for hours about angles and perspective and how photography and architecture aren’t all so different. It had been so endearing and so enlightening and Percy could listen to her talk all day, could watch the way her stormy eyes turned bright and clear, the way she scrunched up her nose distastefully when he brought up Gothic design or in amusement when he asked her what the fuck fenestration actually was. It took five minutes for him to become absolutely smitten, and there is very little he can do about it now but Google architecture terms in the hopes that he will be able to have an intelligent discussion with her once more.

He thinks he held his ground well enough the night prior, aside from a few mishaps, and well—it was the thinking about the mishaps that got him in this position in the first place. If he’d been paying better attention, he wouldn’t have nearly run over an armadillo, then swerved off the road, crashed into a cactus, and ended up stranded as they all waited for Leo to make sure the ancient van wouldn’t explode if they tried to start it up again. Leo is under the car this very moment, using his skateboard as a roller seat, his skinny legs sticking out from the front of the van. Grover had taken to collapsing on the ground, his legs splayed out before him. Percy had worried about his friend’s health the moment they felt the heat—extreme temperatures and the UV rays from the sun can really fuck with an autoimmune disease. Grover had been fine so far, with no flare ups in the almost three months since tour began, but as Percy looks at his friend, who is drenched in sweat and bright red in the desert sun, he has a very bad feeling that that won’t be the case soon. He crouches down next to Grover and pushes his friend’s curls back from his forehead, an old habit he picked up from his mother. An _I love you_ that means _are you okay, I’m here for you, don’t worry, I will never leave you_. Grover’s skin is covered in a thick layer of sweat, but Percy cannot find it in him to care.

“You alright, G-man?” he asks, and Grover nods, a little dazed.

“Fine,” he exhales. “Hot.”

Percy nods, looks over Grover’s face. His eyes are a bit far away and Percy can see the tremble of Grover’s arms as he leans back on them. Percy’s not sure how long Grover has held exactly this position, but he doesn’t like the spasm of his muscles one bit. He reaches for the Hydroflask which is sat right beside them and offers it to him.

“Can you drink this for me, bud?” Percy asks, and Grover shakes his head. 

Percy opens up the water and holds the bottle to Grover’s lips, tilts it so he can drink. Water runs down his chin but Percy just wipes it away for him and closes the bottle once more.

“Come on, give your arms a rest,” Percy mutters, bringing Grover’s arms up and sitting behind him, his legs on either side of his best friend.

Grover leans back into Percy’s chest and breathes a sigh of relief, and Percy starts massaging his best friend’s arms, the way the physical therapist had taught him. The body heat makes Percy truly wish he was anywhere else in the world as he somehow begins to sweat even more than he already has, but he doesn’t give two shits about that—he will be damned if he lets his mistake be the reason his friend wakes up in the morning and needs his crutches again. 

“You’re okay, you’re gonna be fine,” Percy mutters as he presses the ball of his hand down Grover’s bicep and forearm. “Think about A/C. Think about slushies. Crunchy ice. The arctic tundra.”

Grover lets out a sound that Percy thinks might be a laugh.

“Your dream,” he mumbles. “Arctic. Penguins. Polar bears. Narwhals.”

Percy smiles a bit, the warmth in his chest blooming from a place that is not the absolute hell they have found themselves in. Grover remembers, because of course he does. The entire reason Percy became a wildlife photographer in the first place—to make it to the North and South Poles one day. To go out with a team and show the world something that seems so unattainable and far away. To show the world that it’s not as small as people say it is; it is massive and full of life, even in the most extreme conditions imaginable. That it is possible to survive even the harshest of environments; it's just a matter of being built for it. Antarctica, and the arctic tundra. A dream that still sits in his chest with all the other shit he can’t bring himself to acknowledge right now. No, right now is about keeping his friend healthy. Right now is about Grover. 

“That’s right,” Percy says, and moves on to Grover’s right arm. “And you’re coming with me. I take the pictures, you draw up the campaign. We’ll fight global warming with a camera and a megaphone. You and me.”

Grover sighs dreamily, his head lolling onto Percy’s shoulder. Percy panics for a moment, considers calling the band to come back and take Grover on the bus with them. They had called the girls to tell them what happened and they’d asked if the boys wanted them to stay behind in case, but like idiots, they had declined. Why they declined, Percy has no idea—none of them knew the area, or how bad the damage might be, and now they’ve been sitting out in the 12,000 degree weather for 20 minutes as Leo fiddled around under the hood and car, and Grover is passed out from a combination of heat exhaustion and his own demon cells that attacked themselves of their own accord. But when Percy pats his friend on the cheek and says his name he just groans and nestles his head into Percy’s neck. The amount of sweat exchanged might make Percy feel sick in any other circumstance, but his friend is awake and alive and he needs to let him know _I'm here, don't worry, I love you_.

“Quick nap,” Grover mumbles, and Percy pushes his friend’s hair back once more.

“You can’t, Grover, come on. You can’t sleep like this, it’s bad for you.”

Grover whimpers and does not budge and Percy sends all the gratitude left in his body to the heavens as Leo finally rolls out from under the car and says that they can get moving. Leo looks at Grover worriedly, and Percy throws him the keys and tells him to blast the A/C. He gets Grover up to standing and sees that he can walk just fine, thank goodness, but he’s weak and tired and needs cold air like, _right now_. Percy sets Grover down in the middle of the cab seat, buckles him in, and despite the fact that it’s approximately 10,000 degrees hotter inside the van, the air blasting out of the vents is close enough to make a difference and Grover sighs in relief. Percy hands Grover his bottle, to see how his arms are feeling, and feels a rush of relief when his best friend opens the bottle and raises it to his lips slowly. Percy makes Grover take small sips of the water and watches as his face goes from bright red to burnt orange—Percy will take that as a win for now. He tells Leo to drive and monitors Grover until his cheeks turn pink and his arms stop trembling. Percy watches his legs, looks for any spasms, and Grover reassures him that he’s fine.

“Just the heat, Perce, don’t worry,” he says, and Percy knits his eyebrows.

“Heat’s bad for you,” Percy mutters. “So’s the sun.”

Grover shrugs. “I’m fine. Watch.”

And then he lifts his 40oz bottle over his head and Percy knows it’s meant to reassure him but he feels a sense of dread settle over him instead.

“Alright, I believe you,” Percy says, tugging on his friend’s arm. “Just put your arms down.”

Grover rolls his eyes as he does.

“I’m not gonna exert myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not.” _It is._

Grover just sighs and rests his head on Percy’s shoulder, so he puts his arm around his friend and rests his cheek on Grover’s head. Leo is uncharacteristically quiet as he drives, and Percy glances over.

“What are you thinking about over there, Valdez?” Percy asks, and Leo sighs.

“I wish I had a man to massage my weak muscles for me,” he exhales sadly, and Percy laughs a bit. 

“You can borrow Percy if you want,” Grover says, and Percy frowns.

“I am not yours to pass around, how dare you?” Percy objects and Leo shoots him a sad, wide-eyed look that almost makes him forget that Leo’s knee had found a home in Percy’s spine last night every time Percy was just about to fall asleep. Almost.

“My back aches from carrying all these shows on my shoulders,” Leo complains, and Percy smiles widely as Grover laughs.

“Pretty sure they could perform on a landfill and they would still have the best show around, with or without any of us,” Grover says, and Leo grimaces

“Well maybe if _someone_ let me put my aerospace engineering degree to good work so I could build them a rocket and they can shoot their next video on the moon—”

“ _What_?” Percy exclaims, howling with laughter.

“It’s a good idea!” Leo defends. 

“It’s an incredible idea!” Percy agrees, still laughing. “It would probably cost a trillion dollars, but that would be fuckin’ sick.”

“I know!” Leo sighs, then. “Being poor fucking blows. Can’t do any cool shit. Can’t build a rocket, can’t send your friends to the moon, can’t buy a lab and fill it with your incredible inventions. Fuck capitalism, man.”

Percy laughs a bit and Grover grins, pats Leo’s hand comfortingly. 

“You’ll make it some day, kid,” he says, and Leo shrugs.

“I already made it, remember NASA? Anyway, I dropped that shit for you losers. They were dulling my shine.”

Percy feels his eyes bulge out of his head as he gapes at Leo, who Percy knows is incredibly intelligent, but had no idea to what extent until that very moment.

“Why am I only now finding out that you worked for _NASA_?” he asks, incredulous, and Leo shrugs.

“I’m very humble,” he says, and Grover snorts.

“You’re about as humble as I am immortal,” Grover says, and Leo purses his lips.

“Well it’s not every day you meet a fuckin’ genius, alright? People need to know who they’re dealing with. Spice up their lives.”

Percy laughs again and Grover rolls his eyes and leans into Percy’s side a little more.

“Whatever. I need a nap. Wake me up when we get to Albuquerque,” he says, his scruff tickling Percy’s neck. 

Percy sighs and takes Grover’s bottle out of his hands so he can rest more comfortably, and Leo turns on the radio and puts the volume down to a soothing level, good for a nap.

“You two are like an old married couple,” Leo remarks after a while, and Percy smiles softly.

“Yeah, well,” Percy sighs. “We do have that marriage pact.”

Leo’s eyes bulge out and he glances at Percy.

“ _Excuse_ _me_?” he says. “Why was I not informed of such a pact? Had I known, I would have entered into one myself.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “We made it before either of us knew you, obviously.”

Leo’s face softens. “Obviously?” he says gently. “Like—you would make a marriage pact with me?”

Percy suppresses his smile.

“Only if you swore to never build a sentient robot,” he responds, and Leo nods seriously.

“Oh, no, I don’t fuck with AI like that. That shit will cause the robopocalypse,” he says earnestly, and Percy laughs a bit.

“Also if we have two separate beds. If I had to deal with your bony fuckin’ knees in my back for the rest of my life I would probably snap and kill you,” Percy adds, and Leo frowns.

“I have too much energy to rest in my sleep.”

“Well, take that energy into a separate bed, bitch, I don’t want it.”

“Well I’ll have you know that most of the people I’ve shared a bed with have loved my energy,” Leo says defiantly, and Percy grimaces.

“Do not talk to me about your sex life, please,” he responds and Leo pouts.

“If we’re getting married we need to have sex,” he informs Percy. “Why the hell do you think I’m marrying you? For the taxes?”

“You would have sex with me?” Percy asks, and Leo looks him over briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

“You know what, yeah, I really would.”

Percy smiles widely.

“That’s so nice,” he remarks, and Leo looks at him expectantly. “Oh. Yeah, I would probably go for you if you impressed me with some robotics shit. I need to be wooed, Valdez.”

Leo narrows his eyes and purses his lips in thought, and Percy realizes that Leo has taken his comment as a challenge.

“Leo, don’t—”

“Too late, I already have the perfect idea. I’ll make you hot for me, just you wait.”

Percy sighs in defeat.

“My pact is still with Grover. Don’t think you can wreck our home with your boy genius bullshit,” he says, and Leo shrugs.

“No home-wrecking here. I might actually get you to fall in love with me.”

Percy laughs loudly at that, tries to quiet himself so as not to disturb Grover, but it wracks his whole body and Grover moans and readjusts himself. Percy is still shaking with laughter as Leo frowns and complains about how rude Percy is being, but it is too absurd a thought for him to stop. The best part about hanging around Leo, Percy thinks, is the pure fucking entertainment he provides every time he opens his mouth. Mostly it’s a bunch of foolish nonsense that’s just the perfect amount of stupid to make Percy laugh, usually unintentional on Leo’s part, but it does the trick. Percy is still worried about his best friend, now out cold on his shoulder, and there is still that nagging tension in his chest, but Leo’s absurdity has successfully distracted Percy enough to actually enjoy the ride. 

There is something about everybody that makes them easy to love, Percy thinks. There is always a quirk, or a personality trait, or just a way of them _being_ that is so, so easy to get attached to, to pull you in. And once it has you, love comes quickly. Or maybe Percy just loves people too much for his own good. Maybe it’s only easy to love someone if you allow yourself to. Percy knows he allows himself that privilege far too often, knows that it’s probably dangerous and that his heart can only take so much, but still he lets himself love, and he loves deeply. So maybe it isn’t so insane for Leo to suggest that he could make Percy fall in love with him—while Leo isn’t exactly Percy’s type (far too comfortable around fire, even more ADHD than Percy himself), it really means nothing in the grand scheme of his life, because he knows that he already loves the man driving through the desert and singing along to old Spanish songs on the radio. It’s just a matter of the kind of love Percy feels, but he knows that too is fluid and subject to transformation. 

For now he rests his cheek on his best friend’s head and shuts his eyes and allows himself once again to feel his chest expand and make room amongst the aching pain for something just as mercurial as the heaviness that rests there, but infinitely more soothing.

—

Everything is going perfectly fine until their second day in Santa Fe. Grover had been healthy and well for both the Albuquerque show and their day off, without feeling any real muscle weakness. Piper had gathered the band and crew and everyone took their day off to go to a protest against oil and gas extraction on protected Indigenous lands in the Four Corners. Percy had told Grover to take his crutches, just to give himself a rest at least, especially since the heat in the city wasn’t really much better than the desert itself, but Grover had just waved him off and insisted he would be fine.

“I can’t hold up my sign if I’m using my crutches, Perce,” he had argued, and that had been that. 

But now Percy watches helplessly as Grover curls up on himself in pain, his muscles spasming so severely that Percy can see them contort beneath his skin. Percy had offered to massage him, but Grover declined, saying it was too late, and all Percy can do is stand back while his friend suffers. They are in the back of the van the morning before the Santa Fe show, and Percy hasn’t told anyone about Grover yet so as not to worry them—Leo had left them a note saying he would be working on the lighting displays inside the venue, so he is nowhere to be found.

“I think it’s time to go somewhere, G-man, we gotta take care of you,” Percy mutters, rubbing Grover’s arm.

Grover shakes his head.

“Show—show tonight,” he chokes out, his teeth clenched tightly. 

“You’re not setting up any stages today, come on, Grover,” Percy urges, trying to keep his voice neutral. 

Really he wants to shake his friend and yell about how he needs to take better care of himself, but finally Grover just nods. Percy exhales a sigh of relief and pushes back Grover’s hair from his forehead. _I love you and I'm worried about you and I can't stand to lose you._ Percy is concerned by how feverish Grover's skin feels, knows that it's time to get him to a doctor.

“Hospital, alright? You have insurance now, yeah?” Percy says, and Grover nods, then curls up even tighter, and Percy sees the violent tremble of his best friend’s body.

“I’m gonna go let Piper know and be right back. Are you gonna be okay til then?” Percy asks, and Grover nods.

Percy ruffles Grover’s hair gently and then walks the three feet to the girls’ bus and knocks on the side. Annabeth comes down from the steps in plaid pajama pants and a tank-top with holes in it, rubbing her eyes, looking far too adorable for Percy to process. She smiles at him tiredly.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Percy wants to smile and talk to her all day, but there are more pressing matters, and she seems to realize that everything is not fine.

“Can you please go stay with Grover?” he asks. “He’s in the back of the van, he’s—he’s in a lot of pain. I’m taking him to the hospital and just wanted to tell Piper.”

Annabeth’s eyes widen and she nods and rushes towards the van in her bare feet. Percy climbs on board and finds Piper half-awake on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee. She looks up at Percy and smiles tiredly, but he cuts to the chase and her face drops immediately.

“Where are you taking him?” she asks, standing up, and Hazel, Thalia and Reyna all come out from the back of the bus where the bunks are.

“What’s going on?” Hazel asks, and Percy catches everyone up to speed.

“He’ll be okay, this has happened before,” Percy reassures them, and they all nod.

“We know,” Reyna says. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

Percy nods and grabs Hazel in a hug as she offers to go with him, but he doesn’t want to make the day any more difficult for her now that their stage manager is gone. She looks like she wants to argue, but Piper reassures her that Grover will be okay and they’ll be able to see him later. Percy heads back out to the van, leaving Hazel with a kiss on the head, and finds Annabeth attempting to uncurl Grover so she can massage his calves, but he is in too much pain to comply. 

“I’m gonna take him now,” Percy says, standing by the back doors. “You can go.”

She frowns at him. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m coming with you.”

Percy raises his eyebrows and Annabeth holds his gaze defiantly. They have a stare-off until he raises his arms in defeat and shuts the van doors, then climbs into the driver’s seat. He starts up the van, listening to Annabeth muttering soothing words to Grover, types “hospital” into his Google Maps, and they’re off. It’s only when they arrive that Annabeth realizes she has no shoes, so Percy lends her a pair of socks and she manages to fit into Leo’s sneakers, which are only a size larger than hers. Percy carries Grover, who is still contorted in pain, through the Emergency Room doors. When the woman behind the desk looks up and sees them come in, her eyes widen and she rushes off to get Grover a wheelchair. Percy puts him down gently and winces in sympathy as Grover’s elbow bends at an unnatural angle and his muscles clench sharply. Annabeth kneels down at Grover’s side and rubs his biceps as Percy speaks to the woman at the desk.

“Has he ingested any toxins?” she asks, and Percy shakes his head.

“He—it’s myositis. He had juvenile myositis that never went away so now it’s just—adult myositis?” Percy kicks himself for forgetting the word. “Shit, sorry—poly. Polymyositis.” 

She nods and hands Percy a clipboard and tells him to fill out all Grover’s information and to wait until they’re called. Percy gapes at her.

“How long is the wait?” he asks. “It’s just—he’s in a lot of pain.”

“I understand, sir, but he’s not the only one here.”

Percy clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath and thanks the woman for absolutely nothing (although he doesn’t say that part out loud) and rolls Grover over to the waiting area, which is half-full of people who look downright miserable. Annabeth blanches when Percy tells her they have to wait a while and she sets her jaw in defiance.

“That’s bullshit. Look at him. He’s suffering,” she says, and Percy sighs.

“I know that, but there’s not much we can do,” he responds, and he can hear the annoyance in his tone, but it’s not directed towards her. 

“We’ll see about that,” she grumbles as she stands and heads over to the front desk.

Percy raises his eyebrows but fills out all of Grover’s information, rubbing his friend’s shoulder as he does. 

“Have your insurance card, kid?” Percy asks gently, leaning down to meet Grover’s eye line, and he nods.

“Back pocket,” he responds through clenched teeth, and then Percy is feeling his best friend up in a whole new way he never really intended to.

“If you wanted me to grab your ass you could’ve just asked, babe,” Percy jokes, unable to help himself, and Grover bleats out a laugh that’s stronger than Percy expected. 

He grins and Grover is still laughing as Percy pulls out the card and finishes up the paperwork. He’s about to bring it to the front desk when Annabeth comes back, smirking triumphantly, and rolls Grover over to a waiting nurse. Percy hands the woman the clipboard, mouth agape, and she snatches it out of his hands and sends Annabeth a dirty look.

“You two will have to wait out here until you’re called,” she says sharply, and Percy knits his eyebrows.

He’s about to argue but Annabeth shakes her head at him and he sighs in defeat.

“Thank you, Miss,” he says to her and she gives an indignant “hmph” in response.

They walk back over to the waiting area together and sit down, but Percy feels too anxious to be still. His knee bounces of its own accord and Annabeth gets busy biting her nails down to the stub.

“What’d you say to her?” he asks, and her cheeks turn pink.

“I may have pulled a Karen,” she responds sheepishly, and Percy purses his lips to try and suppress his smile. “She was being unreasonable,” Annabeth defends, and Percy smiles widely.

“Hey, you got them to see him sooner, I’m not complaining,” he tells her, and she knits her eyebrows and pulls her knees up to her chest.

“He hasn’t been this bad in a really long time,” she mutters, resting her chin on her knee.

Percy nods. “Last time was August, right?”

Annabeth nods, too, then rests her cheek on her knee to look at him.

“I know rationally that he’ll be okay,” she begins, “but I’m still so worried. Why can’t my brain and my stomach get on the same page? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He sighs. “Emotions are not rational beings,” he says. “No use trying to reason with them.”

She grimaces in distaste.

“Fuck that.”

He grins and nudges her with his elbow. He won’t lie and say he isn’t also worried—he can’t get the image of Grover curled into the fetal position in the back of the van out of his mind. And it’s his fault, after all, isn’t it? If he hadn’t hit that fucking cactus Grover never would’ve been in the position for a flare-up to begin with. The guilt gnaws at his stomach until he can’t bear to sit still anymore, so he paces instead, and Annabeth follows his movements with her eyes.

“Pacing isn’t going to help, either,” she tells him and he sticks his tongue out at her.

“Tell that to my ADHD,” he responds, and she raises her eyebrows.

“Well my ADHD told me to tell your ADHD that he’s being a little bitch.”

He stops pacing and stares at her.

“ _You_? You have ADHD?” She nods. “How is that possible? You’re so…still. All the time.”

“Well, I have a bit more of the attention deficit than the hyperactivity,” she says. “Anyway, I have good and bad days.”

“Think you could lend me a couple good days?”

She snorts, then. 

“You’re not so bad, at least not that I’ve seen.”

“I’m more of an impulsive motormouth with some severely restless legs.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “Quite the cocktail.”

“It’s delicious with a couple of olives.”

She laughs, then, fully, and he smiles widely and taps his foot quickly.

“Ooh, that’s fast, what’s that? 175 bpm? 180? Are you mentally listening to Metallica?” she says, and he makes a face.

“I don’t fuck with Metallica,” he tells her, and she looks personally offended.

“Excuse me? You don’t fuck with Metallica? Who do you think you are?”

“They’re just not my taste. Bunch of old angry white dudes? Can’t I just watch C-SPAN for that?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “You've obviously never listened to their old stuff. Master of Puppets is a piece of artistic fucking genius. It should be hanging in the Louvre.”

Percy grins. “They should play it over the speakers. Tourists could head-bang while they admire the Mona Lisa.”

“Ugh, you’re missing the _point_.”

“And what is the point?”

“That there’s a whole world of music out there that you’re not even giving a chance,” she exclaims passionately. “Fuck Metallica, they went downhill after 1995 and I haven’t respected them since. Just—you know how much there is to listen to and discover and fall in love with? Like, the structure of Western music isn’t even the half of it. There are places that have different keys and scales and arrangements that are so much more rich and complex and just so fucking _breathtaking_. You’re an Arab, right? You know what I’m talking about. [Fairuz](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairuz)? [Um Kulthum](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Umm_Kulthum)? That is _peak fucking mastery._ I wish I had half the talent in my whole body that they had in their pinkies, I would be unstoppable.”

He gapes at her.

“How in the hell do you know Um Kulthum? I thought only Arab moms knew her.”

“Ministry,” she says, as if that’s an explanation, and Percy stares at her. “They have this song where they sample Fairuz and her voice was so beautiful and I wanted to find more—whatever, what I’m saying is that you can’t be so closed minded about what you listen to. You have to keep your ears open because—because—without music, what the fuck do we even have?”

Her cheeks are pink from how worked up she is by her own speech, and all Percy can do is stare at her with a fondness in his heart that crushes him like a damn bug. He sees a fire in her eyes as she speaks, can tell from the desperation in her voice and the way she moves her hands that this is everything to her. Anything else—that is all secondary. This is what she loves, and she loves it furiously, and Percy wonders when the last time he felt this passionate about photography was. He can't bring himself to follow that train of thought any further, though, and he forces himself to focus solely on her.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asks desperately, and he smiles a bit and nods.

“Yeah, I do,” he responds softly. “I actually really do.”

She seems relieved at that, like she was worried he wouldn’t be able to relate, and he just—he can’t stop staring at her, can he? And it’s not just because she’s quite possibly the most beautiful person he has ever laid his eyes on; it’s because he sees the girl in front of him come alive any time she even starts to think about the things she truly loves, and he really, really wants to be one of those things. It doesn’t have to be romantic, not in the slightest—he just really wants to be her best friend. He wants to pick her brain and learn everything about her and listen to her rant about facades and international music theory and whatever else she can think of. And he wants her to want the same from him. 

“Good,” she says, giving a curt nod. “Seems like I’ve gotten through to you.”

He smiles widely and she grins, and then they are being told that they can go back and see Grover by a nurse who leads them to his room. It’s less of a room and more of a bed with some monitors behind a curtain, but the nurse shuts it behind them once they’re inside and Percy immediately goes over to his best friend’s side. 

“Hey, kid, how’re you doing?” he asks, pushing Grover’s hair back, _h_ _oly shit I'm so glad you're alive._

He’s still sticky with sweat and breathing heavily, still half-curled up, but he seems to be at least slightly better.

“A little better,” he manages. “They’re gonna give me some Botox until they can figure out what to do with me.”

Percy grins a bit.

“Gonna come out a new man? Wrinkle-free at 53?”

Grover half-laughs.

“I’m actually going for the paralyzed look of terror,” he says, and Percy laughs a bit. 

Suddenly Grover is tensing up and clenching his jaw hard, and both Annabeth and Percy start working on his legs to try to alleviate some of the pain. Percy wants to throw hands with whoever is in charge of Grover’s care for just leaving him to writhe in pain until they decide to give him the time of day, but before he can be properly outraged a doctor walks in rolling a cart with about fifteen different syringes still in their plastic. The massaging seems to be helping Grover, at least, as Percy can no longer see the twist of his muscles beneath his skin. The doctor introduces herself, tells Grover what’s about to happen, and asks Percy and Annabeth to step aside. A nurse walks in and takes her place beside the doctor and together they prep a crazy amount of skin on Grover’s body for the injections they’re about to give him. 

Annabeth and Percy stand at the foot of his bed, but once the doctor gets out the first needle Annabeth’s eyes widen to the size of saucers and she does a 180 spin on her heel. Percy can see that she’s become a bit pale and she looks almost unbalanced, so he reaches out and grabs her hand to hold her steady. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since they’re facing opposite directions and they’re dealing with two right hands, but she squeezes his thumb tightly and he squeezes her fingers right back to let her know he is there for her. He wishes he could be holding Grover’s hand, too, but he’d been shooed away without being given that option, so he settles for squeezing his friend’s foot reassuringly. Grover has his eyes screwed shut tightly, and by the time they’ve given him the twelfth shot—yes, the _twelfth fucking shot_ —he relaxes completely, turned to jello in the bed. The doctor explains that his muscles will be paralyzed for a few hours until they can give him a long-term solution, maybe prescribe him some steroids for all the inflammation, and Percy thanks the doctor and the nurse both before they leave the three of them alone.

Percy is hyperaware of Annabeth’s hand on his until she finally takes it back and goes to Grover’s side, rubbing her thumb along his wrist.

“Are you okay, Grove?” she asks, and he nods.

“My body is mush,” he says quietly, his eyes still shut, and Percy goes to his other side and presses the back of his hand to Grover’s forehead. _You're safe now and I'm here, we're together._

“That was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” Percy mutters, and Grover nods.

“I’m so stupid,” he whispers, and Percy and Annabeth knit their eyebrows and meet each other’s eyes, exchanging concerned looks over their friend’s head. “If I had just listened to you, Perce, I wouldn’t—I’m so fucking dumb.”

Percy sees the first tear run down Grover’s face and he shakes his head vehemently, wipes it away for him.

“This isn’t your fault, Grover, alright? It isn’t. You can’t control how your body reacts to its environment, that’s not on you, okay?”

“But it is. If I had just—just used my crutches like you told me to. If I hadn’t marched for so long or—or been so stubborn.” He swallows and Percy wipes more tears from his friend’s face, feeling his stomach twist with guilt and pain. “Now I don’t know when I’ll be able to even do my job again. How am I supposed to carry equipment or—or set up the stage.” He looks at Annabeth, and Percy can see his eyes are filled with more unshed tears. “I let you guys down.”

She shakes her head fiercely.

“You did not let us down, Grover. You did nothing wrong. None of this is your fault, do you understand me? None of it,” she tells him firmly, but he looks absolutely miserable, and he shuts his eyes in shame. 

She grabs his face and forces him to make eye contact with her. 

“Look at me, Grover.” 

And he does, and Percy’s chest aches at the utter defeat on his best friend’s face. 

“I do not give one single fuck about whether or not you do your job. None of us do. We have a crew who is competent and capable and you will lead them whether you’re on crutches or not. But you don’t have to right now. Right now, the most important thing is that you take care of yourself, do you understand me? You need to take care of yourself. And that means being kind to yourself, and taking the time you need to get better. Alright?”

Grover nods, albeit sadly, and Annabeth furrows her eyebrows, releases his face.

“You know we all love you too much to care about anything other than your health, don’t you?” she says, and he swallows and nods again. “Good. You better. Or I’ll take those botox shots and turn your face into a Picasso painting.”

Grover lets out a little laugh and Percy smiles a tiny bit, grateful that she managed to get something other than dread out of his best friend. Percy kisses Grovers head and ruffles his hair and Grover sniffles.

“I’m sorry, G-man,” Percy whispers. “If I hadn’t driven into that fucking cactus—”

“Shut up, Percy,” Grover mutters. “Don’t—no. Don’t be ridiculous. That had nothing to do with it. I’ve been pushing myself these past three months, and the heat and the march—that’s what did it. It was not the 20 minutes we spent in the sun, that’s bullshit. It was the four hours in the 100 degree weather and the 12 weeks of refusing to listen to my body when it told me I needed rest. Okay?”

Percy nods and buries his face in Grover’s curls, shuts his eyes. It smells like sweat and earth from Grover’s weird homemade shampoo (it’s more sustainable) but Percy doesn’t care; he just needs to be close to his best friend. He knows Grover is right, but he also knows those 20 minutes probably didn’t help. But this isn’t about him—no, it’s about Grover, and making sure he’s safe and well. 

“I love you, kid,” Percy mutters. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I love you, too,” Grover responds. “Now get off of me—I need a nap.”

Percy laughs a bit and kisses Grover’s head one last time, and when he steps back to let him rest he realizes that he’d totally forgotten Annabeth was even in the room. He offers her a sheepish, apologetic smile, but she’s staring at him with a look on her face he can’t place. He sends her a questioning look but she just narrows her eyes and purses her lips, then takes the chair that’s on her side of the bed and carries it over so that it’s next to his, and plops down onto it. He follows her lead and sits as well, and they watch Grover fall asleep in a comfortable silence. 

“You really love him, don’t you?” Annabeth mutters after a while, and Percy nods.

“Yeah, I really do,” he sighs. “Saved my life more times than I can count.”

Annabeth nods. “Mine, too,” she says quietly, and he looks at her in surprise. “I’ve known Grover since we were kids. Same camp as the band.”

Percy has always known this, of course, but for some reason he never put two and two together. Of course Grover would know Annabeth if he had known Thalia and Reyna for so long—Percy even remembers when he introduced Grover to Hazel, and she rolled her eyes and told Percy she already knew him; _duh Percy I see him every summer_. Percy wonders why he had never met Annabeth, then—all of his friends were always so close to her, yet she remained totally out of his reach. He puts his thoughts to words and she sighs heavily.

“I’m from Virginia,” she explains. “I just went to camp in New York.”

“Why so far away?” Percy asks, and she scoffs bitterly.

“Any excuse for my dad to get me as far away as possible from his family is why,” she responds, and he frowns. She purses her lips. “Sorry, I don’t really—too much information.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m sorry you went through that.” He pauses and speaks before he can stop himself. “Your dad sounds like a dick.”

Percy feels his eyes widen and he’s about to apologize for his word vomit but then she laughs a bit. 

“Yeah, he kind of really is.” She shrugs, then. “Anyway, I guess it wasn’t all so bad—I got a real family out of it, you know?” 

Percy nods in understanding, and she rolls her head towards him. 

“You know Grover from school, right?” she asks, and he grins and nods.

“Yeah. Since sixth grade. Not as long as Hazel, but I love him just as much. He’s just—he’s—”

“Grover,” Annabeth finishes, and Percy smiles widely.

“Yeah. He’s Grover.”

Percy is grateful that he has someone who truly understands just how incredible his best friend is without needing explanation. Even if he tried to put it to words, Percy doesn’t think he’d be able to. How can you describe a person who is so selfless and passionate and dedicated that he would put the world before his own needs, give all of himself so fully and completely to the things and people he loves? He’s transcendent, ineffable. Percy knows there must have been some cosmic syzygy going on when he and Grover met, otherwise Percy would never have been so lucky as to have someone like him enter his life. The thought warms Percy’s heart, and he lets it—once again, he lets himself fill up with the unadulterated love and affection he feels for his best friend. One glance at the tender look on Annabeth’s face as she watches Grover sleep, and he knows she’s feeling the same thing. He can’t really help himself as he grabs her hand and squeezes it gently, and she squeezes his right back.

It doesn’t escape his attention that she doesn’t let go. 

—

After two weeks of Grover mostly being out of commission, he finally feels ready to get back to work. He’s still using his crutches, but the chronic pain that reached a peak about a week after the hospital visit in Santa Fe has subsided to its usual level, which Grover has been dealing with since he was a child. Percy has no idea how his best friend lives in a constant state of discomfort and somehow still manages to be the gentlest, warmest soul on Earth. Percy thinks Grover might be some sort of inhuman nature spirit or something; there’s no way anyone could deal with so much at once and still have so much love and care to give the world. 

Percy thinks about this as he listens to Grover tell him and the rest of the crew the plan for the stage’s setup tonight. Percy has been helping the crew unload the bus full of equipment, taking Grover’s place in terms of physical labor. There had been a moment of tension between him and Clarisse when Grover announced it, one that culminated into an argument which Percy was grateful for—he was kind of sick of her being so damn rude to him all the time, and he learned why she hated him so much, at least. 

Percy remembers how she had scoffed at Grover’s announcement, sitting with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and Percy had pursed his lips as Grover knit his eyebrows in confusion.

“Is everything alright, Clarisse?” he had asked her, and she glared at Percy.

“Why do you think we even need him at all?” she said. “He has no experience with the equipment, he wouldn’t be able to tell me his elbow from his asscheek if he tried.”

Percy narrowed his eyes.

“You know what, I’m sick of your shit, dude,” Percy had said angrily, and everyone quieted. “Why do you get to sit there and throw insults at me like I’m some doormat? It’s bullshit. Who do you think you are?”

“I think I’m the only one here who knows how to do the job you’re so quick to take on.”

“You’re literally becoming the entire stage manager and keeping your place as crew manager, too. I’m just lifting some shit so Grover doesn’t have to. Why are you so threatened by me?”

“Threatened?” she growled, leaning in closer, her fists balled at her sides. “You think I’m threatened by your lanky ass? Fuck that.”

“Then what is your fucking _problem_?”

“Why do you think we need your help, huh?” she had demanded, and Silena put a calming hand on her friend’s shoulder. Clarisse didn’t budge. “You think you’re more competent than a crew of women who’ve been doing this job for years just because you’re a man, Jackson? That’s fucking bullshit. This job isn’t about brute strength—it takes knowledge and patience and a delicate hand, all of which you do not have. Even if it was about strength, we could all still lift you with one hand, you little shit.”

Percy had knitted his eyebrows in confusion, then.

“Wait—what?” he asked, thrown off. “You think I thought I could do your job better than you? That’s why you’re always so angry with me?”

She glared at him.

“Don’t act like it’s not true. That first day you nearly made me drop the most expensive equipment we had because you thought I was too stupid to notice a loose wire.”

He shook his head hard.

“No, that wasn’t—dude, what the fuck? I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. I genuinely thought you might fall and I was just lost and confused—I’m really sorry. Really.”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“I don’t buy it,” she grumbled, and Percy had knit his eyebrows in frustration.

“Listen—I would’ve done that for anyone, woman or otherwise. And I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me, honestly—if you want me to stay out of your way, I’ll do that. But I’m going to help Grover because he’s my best friend, and for no other reason.” 

He took a deep breath and met her eyes, tried to show her that he was being genuine. He hadn’t realized what a sensitive topic it might be, especially considering the fact that she was right—he never _had_ seen a crew of all women, and now he knew why. He felt like a narrow-sighted toolbag.

“I am sorry for assuming you wouldn’t see the wire, Clarisse. That was a reflection on me, not on you, or your…womanhood.” He had winced a bit at that and her glare never wavered. “And I’m sorry for how I made you feel. You’re right—it won’t happen again.”

All she did in response was grumble about how _it had better not happen again_ , and then she stalked off the bus. Silena had followed her with a sigh and patted Percy’s head in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring but felt more pitiful, and Percy had prepared himself to be dealing with Clarisse’s wrath for however long he might need to.

Now, as he walks through a venue in Sacramento, he counts down the days until he won’t have to get in her way or even be within her line of vision, hoping against hope that she won’t decide to just fucking murder him or something. He has no doubt in his mind that if it came down to it he wouldn’t have half the strength necessary to fight her off, so instead he tries to be respectful and doesn’t warn her about wires and follows whatever orders she barks at him because she is right—Percy has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. To him he’s just lifting some amps and setting them down; to her she’s dealing with delicate machinery and she bears the responsibility of keeping it all safe and setting it up meticulously on stage. 

It’s on that very stage that Percy nearly drops an amp on another crew member’s foot when he hears a loud squeal that echoes through the room.

“Charlie!” Silena screeches, then quite literally sprints from the sound booth to the door where the man Percy recognizes as Silena’s boyfriend stands, looking for her.

Once he catches sight of her his face breaks out into a massive grin and he meets her halfway, lifting her up and spinning her around in a hug when they meet. Percy smiles warmly at the sight of them, how genuinely ecstatic they are to be together, until they start kissing far too passionately for the public eye and he turns away, scrunching up his nose. 

“I give it two minutes until they disappear mysteriously,” Phoebe, the crew member whose foot Percy nearly fractured, says from beside him.

He grins.

“I say one,” he responds, and she snickers.

“Well if I was dating either one of them I think I’d be that eager, too,” she remarks. “How are they both so fucking hot? It’s disrespectful.”

Percy laughs, then, but he agrees. The first time he saw a picture of Silena’s boyfriend his jaw had dropped in shock. He didn’t really think it was possible for someone to be so photogenic, but his dark brown skin was velvety smooth, his chocolate brown eyes were warm and kind, and his jaw could probably cut glass. Percy couldn’t see one single imperfection on his face and that photo alone had reminded him more than ever why he was so glad he was a wildlife photographer—he didn’t think he could handle staring at people that insanely gorgeous all day, no matter how much he was paid.

Percy is about to say as much when he catches sight of Clarisse nearby, an odd look on her face. Her shoulders seem to slump a bit as she watches Silena and her boyfriend embrace and Percy watches as she turns on her heel and hightails it out of there. Realization dawns on him probably way too late, and he knows he should probably leave her alone, but as much as she annoys him he can’t pretend he doesn’t respect her or care about her. So, like a fucking idiot, he wanders out back to look for her, and finds her sitting on the cement steps behind the venue, tearing out the little tufts of grass growing in the cracks of the concrete. He stands back a bit and puts his hands in his pockets, and if she notices his presence she doesn’t say anything about it. He clears his throat a bit, and considers what he should do.

“I used to have a crush on this kid in eighth grade,” Percy begins, and she continues to ignore him. “I didn’t really—understand? Like, I thought I just really wanted to be his friend or something? But I was informed by Grover that you are not supposed to want to kiss your friends.” He clears his throat, then. “Um, anyway, he didn’t want that—to kiss me. Or even want anything to do with me at all, really. He actually really sucked, but that didn’t really make me want to kiss him any less, and then he started dating this girl who everyone was obsessed with and I just had to like, _watch_ and it fucking blew, dude. Like, I was miserable for a year and he was living his best life and we were what, 13? 14?” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Everything kind of feels like the end of the world when you’re 13 and the person you like doesn’t like you back. And it still does now, when it happens.” 

He sighs heavily and sits on the step below her, hopes that she won’t take the opportunity to kick him in the ribs. 

“Fuck unrequited love, man,” he breathes out. 

She grunts, but it’s a sound of agreement, and Percy really can’t describe how relieved he is just to get that much from her. 

“ _If_ I knew what you were talking about,” she begins quietly, “I would say that you’re fuckin’ right. And that it’s easier when you can forget. But there’s not much forgetting that can be done when it’s right in front of you.” She pauses. “Sorry you went through that.”

“Sorry you’re…” he trails off when he catches the glare she’s sending his way, and he gets quiet.

“ _If_ you knew what I was talking about,” he corrects, “I would say I’m sorry you know how it feels. And that I would be here if you ever needed to talk about it. Or anything else, for that matter.”

He glances at her to find that her lips are pursed tightly, and she stands up suddenly.

“Maybe you’re not such a terrible asshole,” she mutters. “But I still don’t know you like that. So…fuck off, I guess.”

He laughs a bit and he thinks he sees her smile a tiny little smile, but then her expression is guarded again and she stalks off.

“Get back to work, Jackson,” she calls over her shoulder. “And be careful with my gear.”

Percy smiles, taking it as a win, and follows her back towards the buses. He’s not quite sure when he began to trust her instincts and respect her so much that he would probably follow her anywhere, but as he comes to terms with that fact he decides it doesn’t really matter—he’ll take that as a win, too.

—

“Percy Jackson to the stage, please, Percy Jackson to the stage,” Hazel says into her microphone during soundcheck in San Jose, and Percy grins from his position in the sound booth. 

He is having an incredibly enlightening conversation with Charles Beckendorf, Silena’s boyfriend, when he is summoned by Hazel. Silena is doing soundcheck while Beckendorf explains nuclear physics to Percy, and absolutely all of it goes straight over his head. A large part of that is because of how complex it all is—the other part which may or may not be just as large is how Percy can only think about the injustice of Beckendorf’s beauty. It’s oppressive, honestly, and Percy really wants to capture it on film, do whatever he can, but he doesn’t believe, despite how photogenic the man is, that he will ever be able to do Charles justice.

“Stop drooling over Silena’s boyfriend, he is taken, over,” Hazel says in a robotic voice, and everybody snickers while Percy feels heat rise in his cheeks.

Beckendorf just grins and rolls his eyes. 

“She’s just jealous cause she’s had a crush on me for years,” he jokes, elbowing Percy playfully, and Percy grins.

“What a little gremlin,” Percy grumbles, but it comes out far too fondly to hold any heat. “I should go see what she wants before her head explodes.”

Beckendorf laughs at that as Percy leaves the sound booth and heads over to the stage. 

“And now we have Percy Jackson modeling for…Salvation Army?” Hazel begins in her best announcer voice. 

Percy pauses and decides he needs to make a decision: to strut or not to strut. He settles on a strut and clears his throat, pushes his hair back (although his curls bounce right back to their initial position anyway) and puts on his best smolder as he turns the pit into his runway.

“Look at that form, ladies and gentlemen, absolutely flawless,” Hazel announces, and Percy suppresses a grin. “Percy is wearing Vans with holes in the soles, a very smart pair of shorts and—look at that! Stunning: a Strokes t-shirt he has had since high school. How does he make such casual wear look so good?” She pauses and Percy takes it as his cue to put his fingers over his lips, as if he’s keeping a secret, and Piper yells out for him to do a turn as he gets closer to the stage. “Wouldn’t you like to know? He’ll never tell.”

He sends a wink towards Thalia as the band and crew howl with laughter at Hazel’s commentary, and he twirls for Piper. Percy hadn’t realized that the _entire_ crew had come out from backstage to watch the show, and he wants to smack Leo’s phone out of his hands, but he committed to the role and he intends to see it through. After a final spin he takes his bow and his audience whistles and cheers for him. Hazel takes the flower that’s in her hair and throws it at him, and he catches it and sticks it behind his ear.

“What a show, ladies and gentlemen,” Hazel says, and it’s at that exact moment that Silena calls out an “all good” so that Hazel will be forced to shut the fuck up so Thalia can do her mic check. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Levesque?” Percy asks as he hops onto the stage, and both Grover and Clarisse yell at him to watch their gear. 

She shrugs and moves over to sit across from him on the ground, their legs crossed as they face each other. She lays her guitar across her lap and Percy has to resist the urge to strum the strings like a five year-old.

“Felt like embarrassing you, I guess,” she says casually, and he rolls his eyes at her sly grin.

“Well, joke’s on you, because I am clearly the star of this show,” he responds, kicking at her gently, and she beams.

“You were phenomenal, honestly.” She kicks his leg back. “It makes me happy, seeing you back to life. You been feeling any better lately?”

He takes a moment to consider her words, realizes she’s right about him being more outwardly involved. He thinks it might be a byproduct of the distraction—taking care of Grover, helping out the crew, being on the move constantly. He certainly still feels that wretched vice in his chest, its hold on him far too strong for it to just go away, but he’s been so busy that he hasn’t really had the time to dwell on it, or the things that it’s made of. 

“I guess I have,” he says slowly, considering his words. He doesn’t want to lie to her, not after their talk, but he just doesn’t know what the truth is. “Definitely not worse.”

She gives him a tiny smile as Thalia screeches out a high note into her mic and they both wince and cover their ears until Silena begs her to stop. Reyna is smiling so widely you’d think Thalia had just given a flawless performance and Annabeth looks absolutely horrified, like she wasn’t aware of just how awful Thalia’s voice can be. Percy isn’t even sure why they bother giving her a microphone at all—in her hands it’s a dangerous weapon, and he thinks she should be banned from using it ever again. When he catches Annabeth’s eye he widens his and she mirrors his expression, shaking her head. She seems very relaxed today, her posture still impeccable but not as rigid and tense. She is twirling her drumsticks, like always, and when she sticks her tongue out at Percy he realizes he is staring, so he panics and flips her off. She’s so surprised that she drops one of her sticks, laughing a bit as she shakes her head. He grins and turns back to Hazel, who seems to be busy staring across the room at Silena and Beckendorf in the sound booth. He nudges her and she turns her attention back to him, looking guilty. He widens his eyes.

“Oh, shit,” he says. “You have a crush.”

He quickly snaps a picture of her, with her jaw dropped in shock, and then puts his camera down and raises his eyebrows at her. 

“Care to divulge the identity of your secret object of affection?”

It’s difficult to tell when Hazel is blushing, but Percy has known her for far too long to miss it. 

“I don’t have a secret crush,” she mumbles, but she won’t look at him in the eye and she’s biting the inside of her cheek the way she does whenever she lies.

“You little liar,” he accuses. “Spill it, punk.”

And then she’s getting up and sprinting away from him, guitar forgotten on the ground, and so he chases after her. They are definitely making a scene in front of not only their entire band and crew but also the venue’s employees, but Percy could not care any less. His curiosity is far too great, and he can’t remember the last time Hazel ever liked anyone, so this feels kind of significant. He manages to catch her at a dead end when she reaches a set of locked doors, and she looks trapped, like a caged animal. The lighting is absolutely perfect for the scene, with only one white spotlight directly above Hazel’s head. He can’t help himself and calls a truce briefly to take a few photos, making sure to get as many as possible once she flips him off.

“Why won’t you tell me who you like?” he demands. “Is it gross? Are they horrible?” He gasps. “Oh God, is it Leo?”

“No it’s not Leo,” she responds. “And Leo is neither gross nor horrible.” She pauses. “Actually, he’s really gross. I watched him pick his teeth with the corner of an envelope the other day.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She sighs. “Percy…I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

She purses her lips. 

“It’s just…too sensitive. I don’t even—I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He knits his eyebrows and frowns.

“Are you alright? Are you safe, are they being sketchy, is it—”

“No, no, it’s none of that,” she assures him. “I promise. It’s just something that I need to keep to myself for now.”

He exhales heavily through his nose, narrows his eyes at her.

“Is it Silena? Is it because she has a boyfriend and it’s unrequited? Are you hopelessly in love with this woman who everyone is so in love with—”

“No, but what a woman she is, how can we blame them?”

“You’re right, she’s so perfect it hurts.”

“And so sweet too? Like how is it possible that someone _that hot_ is the kindest human being alive?”

“I think I have a crush on her boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’ve been in love with Beckendorf for years, don’t even get me started.”

“So it’s Beckendorf?”

She groans. 

“No, Percy, please just drop it.” 

He knits his eyebrows and she gives him an earnest look, one that is far too serious for him to ignore. He sticks out his pinky.

“Promise you’re safe and they’re not some gross fucking 50 year old creep,” he says, and she grins and hooks her pinky on his.

“I promise,” she says, then they kiss their fists. “They’re 49.”

He rolls his eyes and then pushes her face away from him but she recovers quickly and tries to jump on his back. He lets her and gives her a piggyback ride back to the stage, where Piper is losing her mind over Hazel’s disappearance. He deposits her in front of her mic and Piper chastises the both of them as Annabeth and the rest of the band watch in amusement. He pulls a face at Annabeth and she laughs a bit, but then Piper sees and glares daggers at him, so he picks up his camera and takes a picture.

“Your smolder is absolutely flawless,” he tells her, trying to sound earnest, and she narrows her eyes at him.

He slowly picks up his camera and gets another shot, and then she snaps and chases him off the stage while the band plays their four-song soundcheck set. As he takes his place beside Grover and watches the girls play the first notes of their heaviest song, he embraces the feeling of Reyna’s bass and Annabeth’s drums vibrating in his chest. It’s a moment of catharsis for him, where everything gets shaken up together and thrown around—there’s guilt, there’s pain, there’s a dark awful thing he can’t name, and there’s love and there’s warmth and there’s every single person he can’t live without, too. They mix and mingle until his chest feels like it might cave in and as the music reverberates through his body he accepts the fact that they can all coexist at once. He can love his friends and feel guilty for leaving them behind. He can be totally full of joy and he can be totally full of doubt and longing. He doesn’t have to be one or the other, and he knows he’s been pulling himself apart trying to figure out where he stands. He is set with the task of just _being_ , and that’s difficult enough on its own; he doesn’t need to complicate his experience any further. 

So he feels the bass and he feels Grover lean against him and a sadness washes over him that he doesn’t try to fight, anymore. _Let it come_ , he thinks. It can take its place amongst the people who he loves and who love him just as fiercely. He knows now that the two aren’t mutually exclusive, and he pushes his own hair back from his forehead and tells himself the words he deserves to hear.


	6. i try but you see it's hard to explain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*: Panic attacks, fainting  
> -There is a detailed description of a panic attack in one section of this chapter and references to it in the section that immediately follows  
> -I’m going to mark the sections' time-jump dashes with asterisks so you know what to skip if needed. It’ll look like this: *** — ***  
> -Although I know everyone experiences different feelings and sensations I am writing from my own experiences. If you get triggered at all reading about others I would advise you to avoid this part (promise you won’t miss anything important in the story and I’ll recap any significant plot points later).  
> -Chapter title from the song Hard to Explain by The Strokes
> 
> Happy reading!

_June/July_

There are few places on Earth Percy prefers to be than the beach on a perfect summer day when the sun is out, a cool breeze is blowing, and he is surrounded by the people he loves. In first place is, _obviously_ , wherever in the world Sally Jackson might be found. In second place is tucked under the covers during the first snow of the winter. In all the other places are: the beach when the weather sucks, the beach when the weather is perfect and he’s alone, the beach when a storm is raging and the waves crash so violently on the shore that he’s reminded of all the poetry he’s ever heard about the dark side of the sea. Today, Percy is luckier than he has been in over a year: he gets his top Beach Day choice, and he has never been happier to throw caution to the wind and leave his cameras behind.

They have the day off in Long Beach after a three-night stint in LA before they have to move on to a new city. Percy had begged them to go to the beach, despite it being a bit out of the way of their path to San Diego, and it really didn’t take much to get everyone on board—the whole band, Leo, and Piper were immediately up for it, and Percy had spoken to Grover about it before he ever brought it up with any of them to make sure that precautions would be taken to care for his health. Which is exactly why Grover is currently slathered in SPF 100 with a giant sunhat and sunglasses, beneath the beach tent that Percy purchased for this purpose specifically. 

The only person who seemed to be against the idea was Clarisse, but Percy suspects it had more to do with the fact that Beckendorf is still hanging around rather than the plan itself. Percy had watched and cringed while Silena tried to convince her best friend to go to the beach with the crew, had seen how utterly determined Clarisse was to win this fight. He offered to go with her wherever she might end up, and he honestly would have given up his beach day and gone, just to get Silena to stop torturing the woman, but Clarisse had declined very kindly.

“I would literally rather eat my own foot than have to spend the day with you,” she had said, but threw him a grateful look for relieving her of Silena’s constant pestering. “Anyway, I’m meeting someone later,” she added once Silena looked ready to start up again, and Silena’s face got this strange look on it that Percy couldn’t quite place.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Alright.” She paused, then. “Have fun.”

Percy knit his eyebrows as Silena walked away, seeming a bit dejected, and Clarisse had looked downright miserable. He looked to her but she just sighed heavily as her shoulders slumped down.

“Are you sure you don’t—”

“I gotta go,” Clarisse had mumbled, and then wandered off. 

And now Silena is laid out in the sun with her boyfriend, a small frown on her face as he does his best to cheer her up. Percy feels a bit bad for her, but he also feels bad for Clarisse, knows well just how unbearable loving someone who does not reciprocate can be. His eyes wander over to Annabeth, who’s stretched out on a towel with a book in her hands. Percy has been doing a solid job of not staring at her tanned legs, which are just—they’re the longest legs in the world, aren’t they? He’s never really realized just how long they are, despite her height, but it knocks him off-balance and he turns away, because he is a not a creep who stares at women on the beach. He is better than that. Piper shoots him a knowing look over her sunglasses and he flips her off, leaves Grover under his tent with a kiss on the head and then crouches down next to Silena.

“Wanna race?” he asks her, and she pushes her sunglasses down her nose.

“Excuse me?” she responds, screwing up her face. 

“Do you want to race me?” he repeats, and she looks mostly confused, but slightly amused as well.

“What do I get if I win?” she asks, and he purses his lips and strokes his chin in thought.

“Hmm. What would you want?”

“For you to let me do your eyebrows,” she responds immediately, and he feels his eyes widen. “They’re so perfect naturally but if you just cleaned them up the tiniest bit, you would be unstoppable.”

He lifts his hand to his apparently bushy eyebrows self-consciously.

“My eyebrows make me stoppable?” he asks and she sits up as Charles just laughs.

“No, you’re beautiful, Percy, really,” she begins. “You just need a _tiny_ bit of grooming and you would be perfect.”

He purses his lips, not really feeling much better about himself, but she seems to be distracted enough, so he indulges her.

“Alright, deal. What about if I win?” he asks, and she grins.

“You can’t kiss my boyfriend,” she says, and Percy feels his face heat up immediately.

“I—what—I would never ask for that!” he exclaims, and Charles keeps on laughing. 

“Stop torturing him, babe,” Beckendorf laughs. “Give him a break.”

She grins wickedly. “Why, you want to kiss him?” she asks her boyfriend, and he rolls his eyes and tackles her into the sand.

They are far too cute for mortal eyes. No wonder Clarisse can’t stand to be around them. 

Eventually they decide on their terms, and stand side-by-side along the shore line. Hazel is about 400 meters down, holding a toy sand shovel in her hand to mark the finish line. Reyna stands off to the side, ready to cab-whistle to signal the start of the race, and Charles is massaging Silena’s shoulders, muttering his encouragement to her.

“You got this baby, you were a damn physics and ballet double-major,” he tells her. “Remember your core strength, remember air resistance, remember performing on a floating stage for your senior thesis. It’s all about balancing your forces.”

She nods, her face set in a hard look of determination, and Percy looks miserably to Thalia, who is uninterested in all of this, passed out on her towel. Leo is drawing something in a sketchbook, Piper is talking animatedly to Grover about veganism, and Annabeth is watching over the top of her novel, pretending not to pay attention. When Percy meets her eye he sends her an alarmed look and she lowers her book and offers him a thumbs up, to which he responds by sticking his tongue out at her. Her jaw drops in offense.

“Woo, go Silena!” she cheers, and Percy places his hand over his heart, wounded. 

The stakes aren’t really that high, aside from the fact that Percy truly does not want to deal with the pain of an eyebrow plucking. If Percy wins, Silena has to teach him how to do a proper pirouette, just because he’s always wanted to learn. When he was really young, his mother would always watch these really old, black and white Egyptian movies where the women danced around and the loose, draped fabric of their clothes would billow out around them. Percy used to put on his mother’s skirts in an attempt to recreate the effect, but it was never quite right. He thinks he can finally fulfill Small Percy’s dreams if he gets down the proper form.

Reyna calls for the racers to get ready, and Beckendorf leaves Silena with a kiss on the cheek and claps Percy’s shoulder encouragingly. He glances at his competitor out of the corner of his eye, and it seems as though she’s doing mental calculations, surveying the sand in front of them, moving her hands through the air. He knits his eyebrows, doesn’t think it’s very fair that she has physics and a ballerina’s agility on her side and all he has is a wonky knee, but he supposes it’s an even trade-off; he has a good amount of height on her so his strides are much larger than hers. Charles goes off to stand next to Reyna and Annabeth wanders over, hands on her hips.

“I’d like to race the winner,” she says, and everyone scoffs, including Percy.

“Why do you think you get to race the _winner_?” Reyna asks in offense. “Who says you deserve that honor?”

And thus ensues a round of arguments that ends in an entire damn tournament bracket being formed. Percy and Silena’s first race will be independent of the bracket, because he wants a fair chance to race Hazel so he can rub it in her face, and he believes too much in Silena's methods to think he has a chance at winning this first round. Once the pairings are drawn up, courtesy of Leo, Silena and Percy can finally have their own race, which Percy truly did not intend to be anything more than a means to cheer the girl up. Now she is gearing up to beat him just so she can rip out his eyebrow hairs, and he isn’t sure how to feel about this turn of events. 

Whatever he feels doesn’t really matter, though—right now he needs to focus on running as fast as he can to make sure Silena won’t come near him with tweezers or wax. He shakes out his limbs and she stretches with all the grace of a ballerina, and then Reyna calls for them to get ready, counts down, and whistles.

Percy isn’t quite sure what kind of physics-centric ballet magic he expected from Silena, but he is certain he did not think that after being neck-in-neck with her for the majority of the run he would be eating her dust once they were three-fourths of the way to Hazel. Silena’s form is absolutely unreal, and Percy pushes himself to try and overtake her, but there is no mistaking the outcome: she beats him by at least two full strides, and he is a heaving, out of breath mess. He collapses on the sand at Hazel’s feet as Silena cheers in victory. Then, in a very classy move, she sits on his stomach and calls him a “weak bitch,” so he throws her off of him and starts piling handfuls of sand on her head until she threatens to wax both his eyebrows off completely. He knows that she will not hesitate to follow through on her warning, and he just cannot risk it, so he helps her up only for her to push him back down into the sand.

“Get ready to walk around with the world’s most beautiful eyebrows,” she says ominously, and it almost sounds like a threat.

He exhales heavily and Hazel jumps on his back and he realizes that he’s going to have to do this all over again way too soon, so he falls backwards, crushing Hazel in the process. 

“Oof,” she huffs out as they hit the ground, but Percy is too tired to sit up. “Percy, you’re all sweaty and gross,” she whines.

“Well you shouldn’t have jumped on my back if you didn’t wanna get sweaty, bish,” he says, and she sighs in defeat.

“This is the rudest thing you’ve ever done,” she informs him. “Your sweat is in my belly button. We are exchanging bodily fluids. This is far too intimate for my liking.”

He grimaces and sits up at that, pushing her away from him.

“Disgusting, get away from me you little wretch,” he says, and she snickers.

“I knew that would work, you hate the phrase _bodily fluids_ ,” she laughs triumphantly, and he shoves her back down into the sand and runs back towards Reyna before Hazel can get him back. 

“Okay, first race of the bracket,” Reyna announces, holding the paper that Leo had drawn it on. “Leo and Hazel.”

“Get ready to eat _shit_ , Valdez!” Hazel yells from behind Percy, and the child playing in the sand a few feet away giggles and runs toward his family. Yikes.

“I’ll have you know I was involved in track in high school,” he tells her haughtily, placing a hand on his hairless chest. 

He’s so skinny Percy can see his ribs each time he inhales, and Percy wonders how it is that the wind doesn’t knock the poor boy down every time it blows too hard. Hazel snorts.

“Yeah, as the scorekeeper,” she says. “Meanwhile I am a perfect physical specimen trained in gymnastics and the art of being better than you.”

Leo flips her off and she bounces on her heels excitedly, turns to Reyna.

“Who do I get to race if I beat Leo?” she asks, and Reyna looks at the paper.

“Whoever wins between Piper and Percy.”

“Oh, fuck.”

The races go like this: Hazel beats Leo when he falls into a hole a child has dug in the sand (although she was way ahead of him the entire time anyway), Percy beats Piper when she tries to push him into the water and misses, falling into it herself. Annabeth beats Silena by a _hair_ , Reyna beats Thalia because Thalia is too busy ogling her girlfriend/wife. Beckendorf beats Phoebe when she gets distracted by the ice cream man, and Travis Stoll beats his brother Connor by tripping him with a large stick he picks up halfway down the path. Between the four strangers they asked to join them to make sure they had an even bracket, the kids’ mom beats their dad and the brother beats his sister. When Percy and Hazel race, she tries tricking him by falling and saying she hurt her ankle, but he knows her far too well, knows exactly how coordinated and capable she is, so he keeps on running. She yells in indignation, throwing sand down like the little sore loser she is.

“What if I was really hurt?” she says, and he purses his lips.

“The guilt would stay with me until the day I died,” he responds, and she pouts.

“Knowing you that would be accurate,” she grumbles as he helps her up, and he kisses her head happily.

“Cheer up, kid—now you get to eat ice cream with Phoebe 'til your stomach explodes.”

She brightens at that and runs off with Phoebe to track down the ice cream man. Annabeth beats Charles, again just barely, but she says something to him before the race that must throw him off because he yells about how she got in his head and he wants a rematch. She just smirks triumphantly and takes over as ref for Reyna and Travis’s race. Reyna glares at Travis until he agrees not to cheat and he actually listens, which is saying something about how intimidated he must be by her. She wins, obviously. The stranger mom lets her young son win, but unfortunately when the time comes for the semi-finals he is up against Reyna, who has no qualms about making children cry, and she makes him eat her dust. When he doesn’t get upset the way they all expect she just shakes his hand firmly and tells him in a very serious voice that if he continues to accept defeat so easily he will go nowhere in life; he finally breaks and bursts into tears. Percy feels as though he has worse luck than the poor kid, because now he must race Annabeth to determine who will go up against Reyna in the ultimate battle. 

When they line up at the start his eyes betray him and dart down to her legs, because they are tan and glistening and ten thousand miles long. He averts his eyes quickly but they meet hers and she _saw_ him looking, but then her eyes move down to his bare chest and her cheeks go a little pink and she clears her throat and turns to face forward. He thinks his brain is playing a trick on him, because there is _no way_ she was checking him out, and he is so distracted by his thoughts that he barely registers Reyna’s whistle and she gets a solid three-second head-start on him. He pushes hard to catch up, and he is right on her heels until she somehow finds the energy to go _even fucking faster_ and beats him in the last leg of the race. He is a heaving mess as Hazel jumps up and down and congratulates Annabeth by throwing sand up over their heads, and Annabeth laughs a bit, winded. Hazel plants a kiss on her cheek and then runs off when she sees Leo building what looks like an extremely elaborate and complex sand castle with Beckendorf.

“You fuckin’ snake,” Percy gasps, hands on his knees, and Annabeth whirls around to face him, hands on her hips. 

She has a smirk on her face that tells him she knew exactly what she was doing back there, and he will not let her get away with it. Her cheeks are flushed from their run and she looks sun-kissed and gorgeous but right now is about the fact that she is a dirty cheater. It is definitely not about the loose curls falling from her bun or the freckles on her nose and cheeks made more prominent by the sun or the way her eyes are glinting with satisfaction. Not at all. 

“You fluster me to get an advantage? Uncool,” he says, standing up straight, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s not my fault if my tactics worked,” she responds coolly. “Control yourself next time.”

He narrows his eyes, then, decides that if he’s going to put his foot in his mouth, he might as well get a rise out of her for it, and throws his qualms into the sea.

“Well I don’t know about you, but _I_ certainly can’t control the things that make me blush,” he says. “Enjoying the view, were you?”

Her face goes pink, then, and she looks like she’s about to argue, but she narrows her eyes instead.

“The way you’ve been enjoying it all day?”

He wants to protest but he can’t do it honestly, not really. A grin that he can’t control breaks out onto his face and Annabeth seems to have trouble composing herself as well. His eyes fall down to her legs once more, briefly, because she knows and there’s no point in hiding it, is there? When he drags them back up to meet hers he finds that she’s busy checking him out herself, and he feels some deep-seated satisfaction about it. He hadn’t realized, until then, how much any little bit of validation from Annabeth meant to him, no matter the form. Whether it was about his friends or his photography or, right now, his body (which he is fairly proud of), he knows now that her opinion means a lot to him. And the fact that she is so shamelessly taking him in makes him ridiculously happy in a way he hasn’t been for a while. The thrill of the chase, he supposes. 

_Oh fuck, do_ not _make a pun of her name out loud_ , he thinks frantically. 

And then she meets his eyes and he feels his mouth go dry, because holy shit the way she is looking at him sends him reeling. But then Reyna pulls them both out of their own respective reveries and the charged tension between them dissipates in an instant, replaced with something new and fragile and maybe a tiny bit awkward. She glances at him quickly and then jogs off towards Reyna and he is left an utter mess, because what the fuck _was_ that? He doesn’t really have time to think it through because Grover summons him to the tent and he makes his way over, doing his best not to look at Annabeth, who is now working on the sandcastle with Leo, Beckendorf, and Hazel. As he passes the group he hears Annabeth talking about using little twigs as support beams and Leo nods frantically.

“Hazel, go find us some sticks,” he says, and she grimaces at him.

“Go find your own sticks, bitch,” she responds, and Beckendorf laughs loudly.

Percy grins and ruffles Hazel’s hair as he walks passed and then jogs the few feet away to Grover and collapses on the sand next to him.

“You rang?” he says, and Grover sighs.

“I wanna swim,” Grover tells him, and Percy purses his lips.

“You mean you wanna go out in the sun? The dangerous awful sun that can trigger your cells and twist up your muscles and—”

“Percy, I’m not a kid,” Grover says, cutting him off. “I know you feel, like, responsible for what happened last time, but I already told you that there’s no reason to. So shut the fuck up and swim with me, bitch.”

Percy’s eyes bulge out of his head, because Grover doesn’t typically use such abrasive language. He is gentle and kind and infinitely patient, and he rarely calls Percy “bitch” unless he’s using it as a term of endearment. Percy sighs and leans his cheek on Grover’s knee.

“Okay, let’s swim,” he agrees. “But first let’s watch the last race?”

Percy looks up at his friend who nods once, so he kisses Grover’s knee and settles in as Reyna physically drags Annabeth away from her building project for the race. Piper serves as the ref, Hazel goes back to being the finish line, and Thalia kisses her girlfriend/wife so passionately that Annabeth has to physically separate them before they scandalize every child on the beach. Thalia just throws her arms up and cheers for Reyna, leaves Annabeth with a quick slap on the butt, to which Annabeth responds by kicking Thalia’s shins. Reyna is laughing fully at her suspected wife’s display until Annabeth turns to her and says something Percy can’t make out from where he is sitting with Grover. He hears Piper gasp, though, watches the way Reyna’s face hardens, and he wonders how it was that Annabeth had become so skilled in the art of fucking with people’s heads. She seems to know exactly what makes people tick, to constantly be aware and attuned to the emotions and motivations of others. He wonders if she uses it for good nearly half as much as she seems to use it to her own advantage. He is scared shitless of her, honestly, and he wonders now if she has been able to see right through him since the moment they first locked eyes.

The race begins, then, and Reyna and Annabeth are neck-in-neck the entire time, even up to the last second. From where they sit, Percy has no idea who won, but Reyna and Annabeth are yelling over who touched Hazel’s outstretched hands first, and Hazel looks uncomfortable, as if she doesn’t want to deliver the news. They both turn to her expectantly and Percy leans forward in anticipation. Hazel screws up her face and sends Annabeth an apologetic look, then lifts Reyna’s arm as a sign of her victory. She cheers and shakes her ass in Annabeth’s face, telling her to kiss it, and Annabeth pushes her into the incoming tide, and that is how everyone ends up swimming together after being at the beach for hours and somehow ignoring the water completely. Percy and Grover go out far enough for Percy to give Grover a piggyback, and when Hazel and Annabeth swim over to them everyone else follows as well. 

They are all either fighting or laughing or playing games and Percy feels himself fill to the bring with love and joy. He has his best friends beside him (although Grover is technically behind him), he has a group of strangers who have become infinitely important to him surrounding him, and he is at peace for the first time in a long time. He tries to search for the vice in his chest and he knows that if he can’t find it now it will inevitably return but he is so fucking _happy_ that he can’t bring himself to care. Sure, all that dark shit can coexist with all the best feelings but right now goodness has won and Percy feels like he can take on the world as long as he has these people by his side. 

If Annabeth swims over and sends him a sly smile as she meets his eyes, then promptly starts a splash war, well—that only serves to reinforce the feeling that much more.

—

Percy is in Mexico City when everything he has ever known gets flipped on its head. He finally gets the chance to do Thalia’s shoot, which was meant to be completed weeks ago, but she kept getting pulled for interviews or felt that the “vibes were off” or whatever else. They are just arriving back to the venue in a rented car and Thalia is blasting some local underground station, yelling over it to rant at Percy about how the music industry is now a "convoluted clusterfuck of algorithms and pissing contests."

“It’s like—if you don’t have the money to promote yourself or have some insane amount of followers you never get anywhere,” she says as he shuts off the car. “It’s such bullshit. There is such incredible music that we’ll never even get to hear and it’s a goddamn injustice.”

He shakes his head.

“You’re fuckin’ right, dude,” he says, and she pouts.

“I’m always right,” she responds, and he rolls his eyes. She grins and grabs him around the neck, ruffles his hair. “Or did you forget, little cousin?”

“Oh, _fuck you_ ,” he responds, shoving her off of him. “I don’t even think our dads are actually related.”

“They’re not,” she concedes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like claiming that we're blood brothers.”

He laughs a bit.

“You’re so weird,” he tells her, and she winks at him.

“The ladies love a weirdo,” she says, and he gags.

“Go home to your _wife,_ you animal,” he responds, and she grins and bops him on the nose.

“I knew you were smart enough to catch on.” She pauses. “Don’t tell Hazel, though. She’ll never forgive me for not letting her be the flower girl.”

Percy laughs and they exit the car together, Thalia sprinting onto her bus as soon as she sees it. He knows Grover and Leo are hard at work inside the venue fixing up a fire rig that was damaged at their Tijuana show and he wants to go see how it’s going, but first he needs a few moments to gather himself in the peace and quiet of the van. He walks to the back doors and is about to swing them open when they do so of their own accord, and out pop Jason and Piper, looking rumpled and disheveled and— _no._ NOT ON HIS FUCKING BED.

He gapes at them in shock and horror and they gape back and they are all standing there in a silence tense with awe and rage (on Percy’s part) and fear.

“What—what—” Percy stutters. “What— _what_? _What the fuck_? What the fucking fuck? In my fucking _bed_?! WHAT THE FU—”

And then Piper slaps her hand over Percy’s mouth hard.

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shutupshutupshutup,” she whispers fiercely. “Shut the fuck up. Shush.”

His eyes widen and he pushes her hand away from his mouth and grimaces, wiping at it.

“I don’t know where those hands have been, you fucking slime-ball, _do not_ _touch my mouth_ ,” he whispers back just as angrily. “What the fuck is this?”

He throws his arms up, looking between Piper and Jason, who is extremely quiet and bright red. He pushes his glasses up his nose and takes a deep breath.

“Well, Percy, when two adults want to see each other naked—” he begins, but is promptly cut off when Piper smacks him in the back of the head and Percy backhands him simultaneously (not as hard as he would like, but hard enough).

“Ugh,” Jason groans, rubbing his head and his cheek with each hand. “Fine, Pipes, you go.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at Percy.

“Listen, Percy,” she begins. “While I think Jason is a vile human being and I would never open up to him emotionally—”

“Hey!”

“—the fact of the matter is that he is an incredibly attractive man. I mean, look at his face. It’s, like, perfectly symmetrical. He looks like a damn Ken doll.” Jason smiles happily at that, but Percy continues to gape at her, and she purses her lips. “We have been having sex for the past two years but that’s _it_. That’s all it is.”

Jason looks much less pleased at that bit, his face twitching and his shoulders dropping a bit, and Percy looks between them, his jaw wide open. He feels like his brain is short-circuiting or there is a glitch in his simulation or—oh, shit. He’s just the dumbest person on the face of the Earth.

“Your dad hasn’t ever sent you to any of these places on business, has he?” Percy asks, and Jason purses his lips. He whirls on Piper. “You! You fucking liar. All those times you had to stay behind for work. _Baltimore_. The _visas_!” 

She looks like she’s trying to suppress her smile.

“Guilty,” she admits, and he is shocked at the absolute nerve of her.

He does a horrible imitation of her voice, then, “ _I don’t want my sister’s sloppy seconds_. Bullshit!”

“It is _not_ bullshit,” she responds through grit teeth, her fists balled up. “I can have sex with whoever I want to have sex with, Percy. I don’t give a shit what you think.”

He knits his eyebrows.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” he asks her, and she opens her mouth to respond but then closes it. 

The tension in her shoulders dissipates and she suddenly looks a lot smaller than her size, casting her eyes down.

“Jason, get the fuck out of my sight,” Percy says, and Jason tries to protest but Percy threatens to tell Thalia about his escapades and he hightails it out of there.

Percy exhales heavily and wraps his arms around Piper’s shoulders, sits her down at the opening of the van.

“Talk to me, Pipes,” he says, and she covers her face with her hands.

“It wasn’t—I didn’t mean for it to go on for so long, you know?” she tells him. “Like—I was just looking for a one-night hookup and he was just like, so obsessed with me.”

“Ugh, _so_ obsessed,” Percy agrees.

“Right? He’s such a little bitch.” 

They both laugh a bit and she frowns, looks up at him. 

“Percy…I really liked him. Like, I had the biggest crush on him for _years_ and he asked out my _sister_. And just—why would he do that? Why was she good enough for him but I wasn’t?”

He frowns, then.

“Pipes, it’s not a matter of being good enough or not,” he says. “Jason is just dumb as a brick.” She half-laughs, but he’s not entirely joking. “Also, wasn’t it Drew who asked him?”

She sighs heavily. “Yeah, but he agreed. And why wouldn’t he? She’s super hot. Also extremely loyal and charming and just…ugh. Of course he agreed; she’s perfect.” She frowns, then. “But I wanted him to think _I_ was perfect. And he just…went ahead and didn’t.”

She groans and buries her face in Percy’s shoulder.

“I still want him to now, no matter how much I tell myself I don’t,” she mumbles. “Am I a catastrophic asshole?”

“No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re someone who got hurt and now you’re doing what you need to do to protect yourself from getting hurt again. It makes sense.”

She peeks up at him. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, then. “Two years is a long time to be sleeping with someone who is obviously in love with you.”

She winces a bit.

“I know. It’s wrong of me. I should stop.” She purses her lips. “I say that every time.”

Percy cracks a small smile.

“Maybe there’s perhaps an emotional reason why you haven’t stopped? Perhaps? Maybe? Perchance?” he suggests, not at all subtly, and she scowls at him, ducking out from under his arm.

“No,” she says a bit too firmly, and he raises one eyebrow. She sticks her finger in his face. “Don’t you dare look at me like that, Percy Jackson. Do not.”

He continues to look at her like that and then she flips him off and stands, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

“I would appreciate your discretion on this matter,” she says professionally, straightening out her shirt. It’s still buttoned wrong but he refuses to tell her out of spite.

“Certainly, Ms. McLean. Or do you prefer Grace?”

Her jaw drops and she kicks him in the shin and storms off. She’s about to walk into the venue before she pauses and turns to him.

“We put a towel down, you know,” she tells him. “We’re not _total_ animals.”

Percy shoots up, forgetting what sacrilege took place in the spot he is sitting and finding that, yes, they did put a towel down but _no_ they did not retrieve it.

“Come get it you wretch of a woman!” he exclaims, and she cackles evilly and runs off. 

Percy wishes he carried around a hazmat suit as he carefully picks up the towel by its tag, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He holds it as far away from his body as possible and sprints to the giant dumpster behind the venue, then throws it in and waves his hand around, trying to shake off the ickiness. Reyna finds him just like that as she exits the venue and she raises her eyebrows.

“Having a moment?” she asks, and he grimaces.

“I have been violated in so many ways today,” he tells her, and a look of understanding passes over her face.

“You find out about Piper and Jason, then?”

He gapes at her.

“You _know_?” he gasps, and she shrugs.

“They’re not at all subtle. All that sexual tension? Please. Who wouldn’t know?”

“Does Thalia know?”

“Probably. I haven’t told her.”

“But she’s your wife. Your life partner. Your—”

“It’s none of my business, Percy. None of yours either.” She pauses. “I am glad to have someone to talk about it with now, though. You know they had the nerve to destroy the bus bathroom in Texas—”

He slaps his hand over his ears.

“I think I’ve had enough for today.” He pauses and leans forward conspiratorially. “You know they fucking defiled the van where I _sleep_.”

She shakes her head.

“Like a couple of rabbits, those two.”

Percy pouts and Reyna pats his head in a way that he thinks she means to be comforting but feels more patronizing.

“There, there, young one,” she says. “That is not even close to the first time they’ve used that van.”

He whimpers and she sighs heavily and tugs on his sleeve.

“Come on, kid. You can take a nap in my bunk ’til the show starts. I think you’ve been through enough today.”

He looks at her, his eyes wide and his face soft.

“Thanks, Reyna,” he says genuinely, and she shrugs as she leads him towards the bus.

“Least I can do after all you’ve done for our anniversary gift,” she responds, then pauses. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

He shrugs as well.

“Anytime.”

She purses her lips as they climb onto the bus and find Thalia passed out on the couch in the front, mouth hanging open, snoring like an absolute beast.

“You don’t think much of the things you do for other people, do you?” she asks him, and he knits his eyebrows as she leads him to her bunk and pulls back the curtain for him.

“Not for the people I love at least,” he responds.

“You must really love Thalia, then,” she says, and he rolls his eyes.

“You dork. I agreed to help _you_.”

A ghost of a smile plays at her lips and Percy grins at her. She pats the top bunk, then.

“Up you get,” she says softly. “Rest, now.”

He thanks her and climbs up and she goes to close the curtain before she pauses.

“Iloveyoutoo,” she mumbles so quietly and quickly that Percy barely catches it, but he does catch it, and he is smiling so widely his cheeks ache.

“Aw, _Reyna,_ ” he coos loudly, and she rolls her eyes at him and shuts the curtains on him. “I love yoooouuuuuuuu!” he calls out, and he hears her groan from somewhere off in the distance. 

He smiles happily as he lies back and rests his head against her pillow, looks up at the ceiling of her bunk. There are pictures of Reyna and Thalia together, Thalia alone, and one of a woman who looks very much like Reyna with her arm thrown around Reyna’s shoulders. He wonders if it’s the sister she told him about, wonders how long it’s been since they’ve spoken, why she keeps up a picture if they’re on bad terms. He supposes, if he had a sibling, he might do the same, no matter how upset they may have made him—Reyna was right the day she said that she and Percy were alike. He knows that Reyna was fully aware of the things in her bunk when she offered it to him for a nap, and considers just how much the gesture actually means. She wasn’t just offering him a place to sleep, but a look into who she is. 

He feels his heart warm at the idea that she trusts him enough to let him into her little space and he marvels at the fact that only a few months ago he felt out of place and distant from these people who mean the world to him now. If anything, he’s found a home here amongst them, something that had been missing from so many of his jobs before. But as much as he loves his newfound family, he does still feel a little homesick thinking about his mother all alone in her apartment, wonders if she feels the same. He makes a mental note to call her when he wakes up and he begins to drift off to sleep to the sound of Thalia snoring loudly down the bus corridor.

But then he hears a loud “psst” and he knits his eyebrows in confusion and pulls back his curtain slowly. Across the corridor from him on the opposite bunk is Annabeth, her headphones half-on. 

“Are you asleep?” she whispers, and he grins widely.

“Absolutely, stage 4, slow-wave deep sleep,” he deadpans, and she rolls her eyes.

“Rough day?”

He grimaces at the memory of what he discovered today and she lets out a long-winded “ooooohhh.”

“You caught Jason and Piper having sex in your van, huh?” she whispers, and he scrunches up his face.

“It was the worst thing that’s ever happened.”

“Tough break, kid. You deserve the bunk; you earned it.”

He pouts.

“I’d rather not have the bunk and have never found out instead,” he says, and she nods.

“Some things are best kept secret,” she responds, then pauses. “Sweet dreams, Jackson.”

She closes her curtain before he has the chance to respond, but he says it back nonetheless, quietly. He smiles to himself a bit as he gets comfortable again, grateful for whatever moments he can get with her, no matter how brief. He is right at the edge of consciousness when he remembers that he will be forced to sleep in the van after the show tonight and his eyes shoot open.

Fuckin’ Jason Grace.

***—***

Things are looking up for Percy in a way they haven’t been in quite a while. He has found a family on the road with Hazel’s band and crew, has fun doing his job every night, feels his chest swell with pride every time the crowd breaks out into earsplitting screams as the curtains rise and the band steps onto stage. After the Mexico City show they had a couple of days off purely for traveling, doing a bit of a roundabout loop that took them up the Eastern coast of Mexico and up to Houston where they played for two nights, until they made a weird little diagonal drive up to Arkansas. Now, almost two weeks and three states later, they are in Cincinnati, and Percy lies with his head in Piper’s lap as she reaches over him to her makeshift desk, typing away on her computer. 

“We have officially sold out every date we added to the tour,” she says. “I mean—holy shit. We sold out _MSG_ , Percy. Fuckin’ Madison Square Garden! The band is gonna go ballistic.”

“That’s insane, dude,” Percy responds. “How are you gonna tell them?”

“I’m gonna write it in gasoline and then light the ground on fire.”

He laughs a bit and she grins and scratches at his hair. 

“Getting long,” she says. “Time for a trim.”

“Wanna do it for me?”

“You really trust me to cut your hair after seeing what I used to do to mine freshman year?”

He purses his lips.

“I’ll ask Silena, then?”

“No, I’m like, such a professional now.”

“Um.”

She smacks his head lightly.

“I just wanted to make sure you have the proper fear in you when I pick up the shears, you can trust me,” she assures him.

He purses his lips.

“I think I’ll have the proper fear in me anytime you come close to my head with scissors, Pipes.”

She smiles down at him with no teeth.

“As you should.”

He sighs heavily and sits up as Piper shuts her laptop and drags one of the tall, cushioned footrests into the center of the living area, then disappears towards the back and returns with some scissors, a spray bottle, a comb, and towels.

“Why do you have all the tools necessary for a spontaneous haircut on hand?” he asks her as he takes his seat, facing the front of the bus. 

She shrugs.

“Always have to be prepared,” she responds simply. 

It is then that Hazel and Annabeth step onto the bus, seemingly in the middle of an argument. They stop short when they see that Piper has set up the living area like a makeshift barbershop and Hazel’s eyes widen in excitement. 

“Haircut, haircut!” she chants happily, bouncing up and down like an excitable kid, and Percy grins.

“Should I be worried?” he asks, looking between Hazel and Annabeth as Piper drapes a towel around his shoulders and starts wetting his hair with the spray bottle.

“Piper’s our best hair stylist next to Silena,” Annabeth says. “Although Piper usually takes care of the guys.” She frowns, then. “ _Some_ people get a little too trigger happy and end up your cutting waist-length hair to your shoulders.”

Piper’s hands freeze, then.

“I said I was sorry like, 12 billion times,” she says. “And that was over a year ago. Besides, you’re hot with short hair.”

“I asked for a _trim_ , you witch,” Annabeth argues, and Percy can almost feel Piper’s eye roll behind his back as she begins clipping sections of his hair up.

“Semantics.”

Annabeth’s glare could kill a lesser woman than Piper, but they are both equally capable of conjuring up withering looks that chill you to the bone, so his old friend is safe from harm. Hazel grabs the other footrest and sits across from Percy, pulls on his hands. She places her palms up in front of her and he hovers his hands palms-down above hers, and they stare into each other’s eyes intently. Percy jerks his hands back on Hazel’s first attempt to slap his and she narrows her eyes, but then Piper gasps and everyone is silent.

“Piper,” Percy says slowly. “Piper, what did you do?”

“You moved, you idiot, why did you move?” she yells, and his hand shoots up to feel the back of his head.

He whirls on her.

“Piper McLean _what the_ _fuck did you do_?”

“I taught you a lesson about staying still during a haircut, asshole,” she responds, and pushes his forehead back. “Next time it’ll be for real.”

“Fuck you, man,” Percy breathes out in relief and turns back around.

Annabeth and Hazel are both laughing at him and he flips them both off, one hand each. Annabeth sticks her tongue out at him and falls onto the couch, her long legs almost reaching the end of it. She moves so that her head is hanging off the edge of the seat and looks at Percy upside down.

“I think you look good with long hair,” she remarks as the veins in her forehead start to pop out from the blood rushing to her head.

Percy smiles a bit.

“I’d like to see pictures of short-haired Annabeth,” he responds, and she scowls at him.

“I am never complimenting you again.”

“Oh but there’s so much to love,” Hazel coos, squeezing his cheeks, and he groans.

“Hazel, you’re embarrassing me,” he whines, and the girls laugh. 

“Look at this bone structure,” Hazel begins, and Percy sighs heavily as Piper tilts his head down and begins cutting. “And those eyelashes? A million miles long.”

“It’s an Arab thing,” he says. “We got good genes, baby.”

“You really do, it’s so unfair,” Piper chimes in. “Why do Arab boys have such thick lashes? What do you need them for? Give them to us.”

Percy laughs a bit and she brings his head back up and turns it to face Annabeth. She looks about ready to pass out, her face turning so red it looks purple, but she is lounging totally relaxed, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I dunno,” he mutters, looking at the curve of her dirty-blonde eyebrows. “Evolution? Keep the dust out?”

Piper snorts and Hazel laughs a bit, but Percy starts to get nervous looking at Annabeth and how red she has become. It can’t be good for her.

“Annabeth, you’re like—purple. Please sit up,” he says, finally breaking, and she rolls her eyes but lifts herself up so that she’s lying down again.

“Alright, _mom_ ,” she grumbles, and he takes a deep breath.

“What do you guys think about adding some more shows in some states we haven’t hit?” Piper asks as she turns Percy’s head to face the other side of the bus.

“What like, Wyoming?” Hazel asks, taking Percy’s hands. 

She arranges his fingers so that only the middle one is up and he grins and rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe like a tiny venue or something. We’re passing through anyway,” Piper says. “Plus other ones. We’re already doing British Columbia, might as well hit, like, Alaska too.”

Percy feels his stomach drop and the bottoms of his feet start tingling.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska,” Annabeth remarks. “Let’s do it. Why not, right?”

Percy’s heart starts racing at an unhealthy speed as Hazel agrees and he tries to take deep breaths, in and out, 4-7-8, 4-7-8, but they keep going and plans are being made and his legs feel weak and numb and he thinks he might pass out. Piper starts to unclip the top of his hair but he stands up abruptly, needs to get the fuck out of there, like, right now. Hazel looks alarmed and Piper yells at him but he doesn’t fucking care because his entire body feels the way it does when he goes down a big drop on a rollercoaster and he knows what happens after this part, and he can’t be around anyone for it. He rushes off the bus and stumbles out towards the van, goes around the front and crouches down low, low, low, squeezes his eyes shut. He’s supposed to be controlling his breathing. He just needs to breathe. But his tongue feels heavy and dangerous and he has this irrational fear that he might swallow it and everything he is touching feels distant and far away. It’s as if he’s suspended in space and there’s nothing holding him down and he cannot ground himself for the life of him. 

He bites down hard on his tongue, to keep it in place, and he can taste the metal of his blood and there’s a sharp pain that cuts through the numbness for long enough for him to let himself fall onto his butt. He places his head between his knees, forces himself to breathe. He can hear his mom’s voice in his head and she’s telling him to _just breathe with me, hayati, okay? let’s breathe together_ and he’s doing his best, he really is but everything fucking sucks and he’s going to die in Cincinnati, of all places. Fucking Ohio. Of course he would be the one to die in Ohio. The thought almost makes him laugh, which is so stupid, because he is in the middle of a fucking panic attack and he is worried more about where he will die than the fact that he is dying. He keeps on breathing, 4 seconds in, 7 hold, 8 out, repeat, over and over until his head stops spinning and he can start to feel his feet again. He’s not sure how long it takes or how long he’s been outside but by the time he can breathe normally again his neck and back are aching and sore from how he had been sitting. He forces himself not to think about what brought him to that point in the first place, does his best, but his mind is racing and it is filled with memories of that awful fucking place where everything Percy had worked so hard to keep together came undone and his heart picks up again and he goes back to breathing, just breathing.

And then there is a hand on his shoulder, firm, and he can hear Piper’s voice but he can’t bring himself to look at her or listen to the words she’s saying. Her hand stays just where it is as he breathes and breathes and tries to tell himself he is safe here, he’s safe now, but he can’t help but think that he will not be safe if he ever has to go back there, and there is a very good chance that he will be forced to very soon. He reaches for her hand, his eyes still screwed shut as he inhales and holds and exhales and he squeezes it tightly, because he cannot go numb again and he feels her walk around him and crouch down in front of him and then both of her hands are on his shoulders, pushing him down into the ground.

“Percy, hey, can you look at me?” she asks him gently, and he shakes his head. “Okay. Is this okay? Do you want me to go?”

He shakes his head again and holds her other hand in place and she takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. I’m here. Whenever you’re ready. And if you need me to go, I can do that too, alright?”

He nods and breathes and he thinks the vice in his chest has migrated to his lungs because no matter how much air he takes in, it just isn’t enough. He feels lightheaded, feels himself on the verge of passing out, and he squeezes Piper’s hands tighter.

“Piper, I—” he tries to speak, to warn her, but his words are slow because his tongue is heavy and if he stops his pattern even for a moment just to talk he knows he will spiral fully out of control and he cannot handle anymore of this. He can’t fucking handle it anymore.

Tears begin to seep out between his shut eyelids and a sob rips through his chest, a horrible heaving thing that he can’t even manage to stifle and Piper brings him into her chest and holds him tight, tighter, tighter until Percy thinks she might crush him in her arms and he wishes she fucking would, because he can’t feel like this for a second longer. It overwhelms him, washes over him in a sonic wave of pain and fear so sharp and so powerful that there’s nothing left to do but give in. So he does. It crashes upon him and throws him around and fills his lungs until he cannot feel Piper holding onto him anymore, until he can’t feel anything at all, and he gets the relief he is looking for.

*** — ***

When he comes to, Piper and Hazel are above him, wafting something under his nose, something sharp and pungent. It jolts him awake, and he gasps in a breath, tries to sit up, but they hold his shoulders down. The sky above their heads is bright blue and clear and the sun is directly behind them, making it difficult for him to focus on their faces.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Hazel says. “Percy, do you remember anything?”

He doesn’t know what she means by that question, and his confusion must show on his face because she looks concerned.

“Can you tell me what day it is?” she tries, and he knits his eyebrows.

He has a pounding headache and his whole body is sore like his muscles had been tensed up tight and—oh shit, he passed out. He had a panic attack and passed out and he worried his friends like a stupid dumb asshole idiot. 

“Thursday,” he mumbles, and his mouth is bone-dry. “I—sorry. I’m so sorry, oh God.”

He goes to sit up again and they help him, and Hazel brushes the gravel off his back. 

“Don’t apologize, Percy, what the fuck?” Piper exhales. “Don’t ever apologize for this.”

He rubs his eyes with both hands and buries his face in them, and Hazel kisses the side of his head.

“Percy…you haven’t had something like that happen in a long time, have you?” Hazel mutters, and he doesn’t know how to tell her that it used to happen to him nearly every day in Alaska.

“Um,” he mutters into his hands. “Not since tour started, at least.”

They are all silent and Percy feels mortified and disgusted with himself and he can’t believe he ever thought he was getting better just because of a few good days. Yeah fucking right. 

“Percy, I don’t want to upset you,” Piper begins, “but is this about what we were talking about on the bus? The adding dates?”

He freezes and she notices and she takes a deep breath.

“We’re not doing that anymore, okay?” she mutters. “So you don’t have to worry about it, now.”

He feels gratitude and he feels guilt and shame ten times more strongly, overwhelming everything else. He drops his hands from his face and looks down at the ground.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t—just because of me. It’s okay,” he says, and he still can’t look at them, but Piper holds his chin and brings his head up and forces him to hold her gaze.

Her dark eyes are fierce and set in determination, and he knows what she is about to say is going to be significant.

“It is not okay,” she says firmly. “It is never okay to put anyone in a situation where they are made the feel the way you felt earlier. I don’t give a shit if I have to cancel the entire goddamn tour. I would do it for you in a heartbeat, and so would Hazel and Reyna and Annabeth and Thalia. We don’t give one flying fuck, do you understand me? You are more important to us than a stupid job. You mean so much more to us than you'll ever understand.”

He feels his throat constrict and his vision goes a little blurry and he nods, tries to swallow.

“It’s not just about an added date, though, is it Perce?” Hazel mutters beside him. “It’s a place.”

He nods and wipes at his face with the crook of his elbow, but says no more.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” she mutters, resting her chin on his shoulder. “But we have to talk about it.”

He nods again and she wraps her arms around him and hugs him tight, and he buries his face in her shoulder and squeezes her right back. She smells like cake batter and baby powder somehow simultaneously, and he revels in the familiarity of it, of her. He feels Piper come up behind him and wrap her arms around him and Hazel both, and she rests her cheek between his shoulder blades.

“We love you, Perce,” she mutters, and he can feel the words vibrate against his chest. 

It reminds him of a time when he allowed himself to feel the good and the bad all at once and he wishes he could be the person he was in that moment right now but he just fucking can’t, not yet. He wants to tell himself that that’s okay, that he doesn’t always have to have some grand revelation that sets him free of a vice of his own design, but right now all he wants in the world is to sleep, preferably for a couple of days. He is exhausted and he doesn’t have the energy to fight off that dark awful thing that rests not just within his chest but in every damn cell of his body.

He wants his mom.

If he shuts his eyes tight enough he might be able to imagine that it’s her here with him, holding him close, ready with a cup of _shai_ and stories to tell him about growing up in Amman to distract his racing mind. He takes a deep breath in, lets the air fill his lungs,  breathes _in and out, in and out_ , to the rhythm of her voice in his head.

For now, he has Hazel and he has Piper and he has the people that love him. For now, that will have to be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Did I write over 4,000 words of our band hanging out on a beach, less than 300 of which actually involve swimming? Yes, yes I did.  
> -One thing that I hope comes across this chapter is the fact that healing is not at all linear. Despite how good we may feel there will always be setbacks and low points and it's a very difficult thing to accept. What's important in those moments is to remember that it is all still healing nonetheless (easier said than done, obviously). In the upcoming chapters we're going to be seeing Percy struggle with those things so I just want to let you know ahead of time. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	7. climb a mountain and turn around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap of last chapter's missing bits if you skipped: Percy got a haircut, Hazel and Piper are gems, Percy stared at Annabeth too long again and he misses his mom (what else is new, amiright?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long list of notes today, so so sorry:  
> *Trigger warning*: Mentions and descriptions of domestic abuse, discussion of depression, brief mentions of anxiety/panic attacks  
> -Once again I’m going to mark the sections where these things are included with asterisks like this: *** — *** so that you can skip if needed, and again, don’t worry, I will recap anything significant to the story so you won’t miss out on anything. Please take care of yourselves first and foremost!  
> -There are discussions of both systemic and individual racism in this chapter  
> -Chapter title is from the song Landslide by Fleetwood Mac 
> 
> *Edit to the story: I’ve changed the name of the band from Hazel and the Half-Bloods to Demi. Demi, while still being a reference to the OG series, felt more fitting as I thought about the band members’ backgrounds and how I want the story to progress. Also, having a name like Half-Bloods in an AU where the gods don’t exist and that word can have any number of connotations—all of which are racist—and bears too close a resemblance to an existing slur for comfort, is supremely stupid. I apologize for putting it in the story in the first place and for any harm I may have caused, and I will be sure to keep educating myself on the matter and correcting my behavior as I learn.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!

_July/August_

When Percy wakes up in St. Louis with Leo’s bony knees in his stomach for the second morning in a row, he finds himself more willing than ever before to crawl out into the hall and beg Hazel for mercy, for a place to sleep where he will not be attacked by loose limbs and morning breath. But he is sandwiched between Leo and Grover on the hotel’s queen-sized bed and Grover’s arm is wrapped around Percy’s chest and he is trapped for at least another hour. It’s an hour he is incredibly bitter about losing, not only because he has never had to pee more in his life, but because he could be spending it outside in the hazy morning light instead, the perfect time of day in the summer when the sun just starts to rise and the air is still and the Earth is quiet. Before it becomes oppressively hot and sticky and you tell yourself that you would quite literally rather die than have to spend one more second outside. 

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, then immediately regrets his decision because he inhales as Leo exhales from his open mouth, and Percy thinks he might vomit. He decides he simply cannot stand it anymore, whispers quiet apologies to Grover as he unravels himself from his best friend and manages to escape down to the end of the bed without waking anyone up. Grover just rolls and shifts and clings to Leo instead and Leo’s knees immediately find a home in Grover’s stomach. Percy winces as he stands and the bed creaks loudly, and then he immediately trips on a duffle bag and falls on his face. He groans quietly and hopes against hope that today will not be nearly as miserable as yesterday. 

They had endured a particularly grueling show the night before, with multiple last-minute mishaps and a fire rig explosion as the crew packed up that nearly scorched off Clarisse’s eyebrows. With Beckendorf being gone, Leo was thought to be the only person that was of any real use in fixing the rig, although once Silena stepped in to lend a hand everything ended up moving much more quickly. Leo had gaped at her when she pushed him aside and assembled some piece that was meant to ignite the flames out of the scraps Leo had, and when he asked her where she learned it she had just shrugged. 

“Just made sense,” she had said, and that was that.

Grover, on the other hand, was busy dealing with the venue’s manager, who was prepared to give the band a hefty fine for their unstable equipment. He and Piper had spent the night apologizing and doing their best to make amends, and it was all such a fuckin’ nightmare that nobody really had it in them to celebrate the show, which had actually been pretty incredible despite all the setbacks. After all was said and done Piper had banned Leo’s pyrotechnics from the show until he could guarantee nothing like that would ever happen again, and Percy had never seen him in worse spirits than he had been in when his machines were taken away from him. The band was told they would not be allowed to use the lot to sleep for the night because of what had happened despite having made a deal with the venue, so they had to find about six free rooms last minute at a random hotel that also had space to accommodate two massive tour busses and two large vans.

Seeing as how they are in St. Louis fucking Missouri (Percy firmly believes the Midwest is the world’s left armpit), they had found one fairly easily. He’s disturbed by the amount of space around him in a place that’s meant to be a city. It feels wrong, and off, and like it should be about ten times more condensed and a hundred times as populated. Now, as he leaves the bathroom of the little hotel room and prepares himself for the day, he wishes he was back in New York, where the people are loud and rude and packed tightly together. He wonders why it is that he longs for the presence of eight million angry assholes as a stranger in the hallway smiles at him brightly and greets him with a good morning that he returns groggily. Why, when someone calls out to hold the elevator and his hand itches to hit the Doors Close button but the stupid nice idiot next to him puts his foot against the door to keep it open, he frowns at them. But then Annabeth rushes onto the elevator, cheeks flushed, a bit out of breath, and when she grimaces at him after thanking the kind stranger he remembers exactly why it is. 

He longs to be understood by these people, to share a common goal and view of the world. To be in a rush and heading towards the same train with a stranger and helping each other get onto the packed car despite having to throw a couple of elbows in the process. To press the Doors Close button not because you have ill intent but because the person beside you shares your buzzing impatience, an anticipation that can’t be delayed a moment longer. To yell at a cab driving like a total fucking dildo for almost hitting a kid in the crosswalk and then scolding the kid for not being more careful and taking care of each other in that angry way people do when they really, truly mean it. When it matters. 

Annabeth’s voice pulls him out of his own head and he looks at her, wrapped up in a hoodie and leggings, her eyes puffy and tired.

“Why are you up so early?” she asks him as the elevator descends, and he sighs.

“Leo’s knees,” he explains, and she nods in understanding. “Why are _you_ up so early?”

“Hazel’s knees.” 

He smiles a bit and she does as well, rubs at her eyes.

“Wanna grab a coffee and nap on a bench?” he asks her, and she yawns hugely as she nods, looking like a roaring lion with her mane of golden curls framing her face.

They find a little coffee shop with a wall of bookshelves packed with books of all genres. Percy gets a hot chocolate because he fucking hates the taste of brewed coffee and Annabeth gets a matcha something, then immediately wanders over to the books. Percy, who prefers (and sometimes requires) audiobooks, purses his lips as he follows her and they peruse the selection together. 

“Holy shit, they have it!” she exclaims, and grabs a colorful-looking children’s book that Percy recognizes off the shelf. 

“Geronimo Stilton,” they both say in unison, and then look at each other.

“No one else I know has ever read these,” Percy says, picking one up. 

His mother used to read them to him, and he would follow along best he could. He loved the way some of the words were replaced with symbols and pictures, how it gave him context into what the sentence meant that would help him figure out what the other words were even when he was struggling. They were the first and last books he ever willingly read, and seeing one now makes him long for his mom so much that his chest aches. When was the last time they spoke? It can’t have been more than a week ago, but it feels like an eternity.

“My teacher used to read them to us,” Annabeth explains. “She would let us each pick a new adventure a week. It was the best. I made my dad buy me every single book in the store.”

Percy smiles a bit, but then she frowns.

“I had to leave them all in Virginia when I left for college,” she mutters, and he frowns.

“Are they all still there? You never went back for them?”

She purses her lips. “Never went back, period.”

He knits his eyebrows as she flips through the pages, runs her fingers along the words. She seems to be done speaking on the matter.

“On the count of three, say your favorite one,” he says, and her eyes widen.

“No, I can’t—”

“One—”

“Percy—”

“Two—”

“Toomuchpressure—”

“Three!”

“ _Cheddar_ _Face_!”

“ _Fraidy_ _Mouse_!”

They both narrow their eyes at each other, and immediately begin arguing and explaining why the other person is wrong. By the time their drinks are done things are getting very heated and Annabeth looks about ready to throw the book in her hand at his head, but then he stops and gasps.

“But we can both agree that the worst was _Wild, Wild, West_ , right?” he says, and her eyes widen in horror.

“Oh God, I forgot about that,” she breathes. “It was an abomination.”

They return their books to the shelf and make their way outside to find a park or somewhere to sit. Despite the fact that it’s almost 6 a.m., he sees barely anyone walking around and he feels unsettled by the lack of activity around him. After a few minutes of walking they find a little park with a long bench and settle in. Percy pulls up his knees and spins sideways so his legs are up on the bench and Annabeth mirrors his position but sits criss-cross applesauce. She holds her cup close to her chest as Percy takes a tentative sip of his and burns his tongue, then curses, and she laughs at him. They sit in silence for a few moments, watching St. Louis begin to come alive as people finally start their drives to work or emerge from their apartments. Once again he longs for the noise and the chaos of New York City, but he supposes the quiet is alright if he gets to share it with Annabeth. He might sit in silence forever as long as he has her beside him.

“So,” she begins quietly, and he glances at her. “Missouri, am I right?”

She winces at how awkward it feels and he laughs a bit.

“Fucking hate it here,” he says, and she sighs in relief.

“Me the fuck too,” she breathes. “I don’t understand why anyone would willingly live in a place so flat and empty.”

“Aren’t you from Virginia?”

“Yeah, but at least we had the beach. The Midwest has nothing to offer me except white people with flat accents who are too nice for their own good. And I have to say, I’m not interested.”

Percy laughs at that and she grins widely. He gets a bit lost in her eyes, looks for the different colors within them. In the early morning they are dark grey and he can see some flecks of blue splattered around and all he can think about is thunder and lightning and a storm raging in the middle of the sea. They turn on him, then, and he has to avert his gaze before he says something incredibly stupid.

“Hey, what’s your favorite color?” he asks her, and she sips her tea.

“Green,” she responds. “But it’s a specific green. We had this giant red mulberry tree in our backyard and when they would start to get ripe the leaves would turn this really beautiful, rich color that stood out against the berry and…”

She trails off, then, her cheeks going a bit pink, and she looks down at her hands.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” she apologizes, and he shakes his head.

“Not at all. I love listening to you talk,” he tells her, and she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Is that why you asked me about dome stability last week?”

He grins and she nudges him with her foot and rolls her eyes. So maybe he hasn’t been as subtle as he thought he was being—oh well. She is still here with him, isn’t she? Hasn’t kicked him in the shins and run away screaming or told him off or just flat-out ignored him. She is here and she seems quite content with that and he decides that it’s time for him to be here, too. Fully. No more fear holding him back.

“What’s yours?” she asks, then, and he inhales heavily.

“Brown,” he tells her. “Like my mom’s eyes. They’re like melted dark chocolate and when they catch the light just right they look like Arabic coffee. You know how it’s made really dark and when you first pour it it has that layer of bubbles on top?” She smiles and nods. “Yeah. Brown.”

“Chocolate and Arabic coffee brown?”

“Sally Jackson brown.”

“You don’t have Sally Jackson’s eyes.”

He sighs heavily, as if it’s the world’s greatest injustice, and he has to say, it’s up there on the list of things he has no power to change but wishes he could.

“I have Bilal’s eyes, tragically,” he tells her. 

“Tragically?”

“Bilal is a father by biology and biology only. I never really knew him, never really cared to. Could’ve gone my whole life without knowing his name and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I always had my mom. She’s all I’ve ever needed.”

“Your dad sounds a bit like my mom,” she tells him and he nods, encouraging her to continue. “She left a little later, but she left all the same. You know how it is.” 

She shrugs, then, and he wishes he could just take a deep dive into her brain, figure out who she is and why she’s that way and if she wishes she were someone different. When he meets her eyes he sees that thunderstorm again, feels the anticipation and the excitement and the little bit of fear in not knowing how long it’ll last or how bad it’ll be, but wanting it to come nonetheless. She is, objectively, incredibly beautiful, and he wishes he could say that without sounding like an asshole because she has just told him about her family and she probably doesn’t really care what he thinks, anyway. He knits his eyebrows.

“How old were you?” he asks, and she inhales heavily.

“Seven.”

“And when your step-mom came along?”

She narrows her eyes and takes a sip of her drink. 

“Eight.”

“Oof.”

“Mm.”

She sips her drink again and looks over her shoulder at the street where there is hardly any traffic. She has a side-profile that most people would kill for, her cheekbones high and her jaw defined and little beauty marks peppered along her hairline down to her neck. He has the strange urge to grab a marker and play connect the dots with all of them but then she turns to him and shrugs again and all he can do is shrug back.

“Sorry about your mom,” he says. “And your dad.”

He shrugs as she does and she grins and rolls her eyes, sips her drink.

“Sorry about your dad. Your mom sounds like a fucking legend, though.”

He smiles widely.

“My mom is the best human being in the entire universe.”

“Well it’s no wonder she raised the best human being I know,” she remarks, looking down at her cup and tracing the lip of it with her thumb.

He bites the inside of his cheek which he is sure is now bright red, but there is not a single part of him that believes what she’s saying. He believes that _she_ believes it, but all he can see when he looks at himself in the mirror is someone who cannot be there for his friends because he’s too busy being wrapped up in his own bullshit. Someone who is not worthy or deserving of their love and support. A bad son, a bad friend, a bad photographer. A bad person. 

“I would argue that Grover is the best person we know,” he says. 

Deflect, deflect, deflect. He can’t bring himself to engage in a conversation that will only end poorly. He can’t see the point, really. Either he lies and thanks her or he tells the truth and she sees who he truly is and he is far too selfish to let that happen just yet. She’ll find out soon enough, anyway. It feels inevitable.

“Ah, how could I forget the Lorax himself?” Annabeth jokes, and Percy smiles despite himself. “Grover’s less of a person and more of a Nature Entity,” she says, and Percy laughs a bit. “You, however…it’s a little overwhelming, you know? It’s fucking scary how good you are.”

“I’m not,” he argues. “I’m really not.”

She knits her eyebrows and he can’t bear to meet her eyes. 

“Hey,” she says softly, but he won’t look at her, and she holds his knee firmly. “Can you look at me for a second maybe?”

He knits his eyebrows and looks at the spot between her eyebrows, and she narrows her eyes at him and pinches his thigh. He jumps in surprise and complains as he rubs it.

“Look me in the eyes, you rude little bitch,” she says, offended, and he can’t help the massive smile that overtakes his face. “I’m not kidding.” She pauses. “Entirely.” 

He grins and she smiles a tiny bit, but then it fades and she frowns and bumps his knee with the side of her fist. 

“Percy, I know…I mean, we’re not like, the best of friends or whatever. You’d probably much rather talk to Hazel or Piper or Grover about these things, but—I do care about you. A lot. And I need you to know I mean it when I tell you I think you’re incredible. It’s like, unreal. You spent the last two months making Thalia’s anniversary gift with Reyna even though you had about six billion other things to worry about. You call your mom every Friday night and Sunday morning. You take care of Grover better than anyone else and Hazel is so fucking obsessed with you that she talks about you in her sleep.” He feels his throat get tight and he looks down at his hands in his lap. “Maybe you don’t think you’re incredible because it’s hard for us to appreciate the things we do for other people, or because you’re so used to taking care of everyone else. But I’m telling you that you are.” She places both hands on his knees and leans forward, holds his eyes with the most genuine and earnest look he has ever seen. “Do not even try to argue with me. You are fucking next level. It used to make me ill to be around you because I couldn’t take it. It’s time you start to see in yourself what everyone else does. Alright?”

He nods silently, looking back down at his hands, isn’t quite sure what else to do. How can he express his gratitude in any meaningful way after _that_? He tries to swallow the lump in his throat and clears it, looks up at her.

“I—um. Thank you,” he mutters lamely, and she rolls her eyes at him. “We’re not. The _best_ of friends, I mean.” He pauses, then. “But I do consider you my friend. A very good one at that.”

She smiles warmly.

“I consider you my friend, too.” She grins, then. “Feels like kindergarten, doesn’t it?” she jokes. 

She puts on quite possibly the ugliest voice he’s ever heard when she says: “Will you be my best friend?” with her eyes crossed and her upper lip pulled over her teeth.

He laughs heartily, from his belly, and whatever discomfort is left between them clears and it’s easy, to be with her like this. To be kind to each other and to share and to decide, together, that the other person means something to you. To care enough to try.

“Will you?” he asks seriously, and she smiles widely.

“I think I’d be lucky to have a best friend like you,” she mutters, and he knocks his foot against hers.

“And I you,” he responds. “I do have one condition, though.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“You have to tell me I’m pretty at least twice a day or I just can’t keep you in my life.”

She rolls her eyes so hard he thinks they go fully to the back of her head, but she is grinning, which he will take as a win any day.

“Well you have to let me meet Sally Jackson,” she says, and he smiles brightly.

“Oh, no problem there. Sally will adore you.”

She raises her eyebrows hopefully.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “She’s gonna eat you up. Get ready to be adopted by an Arab mom. Your jean size will increase tenfold.”

Her eyes widen in excitement.

“Sign me the fuck up.”

Something settles in Percy’s chest as they sit together and watch as the rest of the city starts its day. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but the pressure that’s been heavier than usual lets up the slightest bit, makes room for something kinder, more forgiving.

Percy finds that they’re just as good at sharing silence as they are at arguing over trivial things or talking about whatever might come to their minds. There’s no real pattern to their conversations—they are just a couple of distractible clowns whose minds jump from topic to topic as soon as one little idea sparks another. They can’t even check each other, because they are both equally thrown off track by the other, and somehow they start their conversation discussing how disgustingly expensive rent in New York is and end it arguing over who would win in a fight: a large crocodile or a hippopotamus. Percy sides with the hippo, _obviously_ , and they are discussing relative jaw strength when Annabeth’s phone starts ringing at the same time as his. They show each other their phone screens, Piper calling Annabeth, Hazel calling Percy, and then both of them grimace and deny the calls. Percy can only imagine their friends’ outrage and he grins widely as Annabeth does, and she nudges him.

“We should get back,” she sighs. “Have to start heading out for Kansas probably.”

“Gross, more flat land and wheat?” Percy whines, and she laughs as she stands and pulls him up.

He puts all his weight onto her shoulder, just to be annoying, and she grunts and shoves him off.

“Don’t,” she complains. “I’m too tired to deal with your 10-foot-tall bullshit today.”

“But you’re, like, nine feet tall, so it’s fair.”

She sends him a sharp glare as they make their way onto the sidewalk, so he smiles brightly at her and pulls her hoodie over her eyes. She hip-checks him hard enough to nearly send him into the street and he gasps in shock, places his hand over his heart. 

“You sick bastard,” he breathes, and she smirks smugly.

“Don’t fuck with me, Jackson.”

She seems far too pleased with herself for Percy’s liking, so in what can only be described as a totally mature and collected manner, he gives her a wet willy and then sprints away from her before she can beat the living shit out of him.

She catches up to him, eventually. Despite how much he truly loves every minute he spends with her, it is definitely not what he would call a pleasant experience. 

But it is totally fuckin’ worth it. 

*** — ***

When Percy was 9 years old he woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a loud crash followed by a string of vile curses. His heart immediately started pounding out of his chest as his mind conjured up the most terrible scenarios possible, things far worse than he had seen his step-father do to his mother, worse than what his step-father had done to him. He ran out of his room, breathless and terrified, and he met his mother in the hallway in seemingly the same state. They both looked each other over, held each other’s arms and asked each other frantically if the other person was alright, and when they had confirmed their own safety they crept out into the entrance of the living room. 

There they found Gabe in nothing but his night-shorts, his entire body so pale that it nearly blinded Percy, (he still has nightmares about that scene alone, and he has plenty of trauma to choose from) cursing and jumping around with a spatula, trying to kill a fat rat that was scurrying around the floor. He had yelled for Sally and shouted as he slammed down the spatula over and over again, trying and failing each time to hit it. It was like watching an uncoordinated two-year-old try to play Whack-A-Mole, except a hundred times more horrifying.

Sally, being intelligent and level-headed and not a total fucking barbarian, calmly walked over to the fridge, cut off a chunk of cheddar from the block, and slowly lured the rat to a spot on the floor where she could trap it under a mixing bowl. Gabe made Percy slide a folder underneath and told him to throw the creature over the fire escape, to kill it, but Percy adamantly refused. It wasn’t the rat’s fault that Gabe was too lazy and too stupid and too slow to take care of the situation properly, and Percy wasn’t going to sentence the thing to death for his step-father’s inadequacy. He slipped on his shoes and was getting ready to take the rat down to the street like a normal person when his step-father grabbed him by the back of the hair, told him he wasn’t going anywhere except the fire escape. Sally stepped in immediately, forced Gabe to release Percy, but Gabe had pulled so hard on Percy’s curls that his eyes teared up and when Gabe released him, a chunk of his hair rested in Gabe’s fat, clammy fist. Percy expected Gabe to do something awful to his mother for interfering and he was getting ready to do anything at all to stop him, maybe let the rat loose or throw it at Gabe’s ugly fucking face, but instead he ripped the bowl and folder from Percy’s hands and tossed everything out the window himself. 

Percy had cried out as it happened, tried to stop it, but his mother held him back firmly, wrapped her arms around his chest and arms tightly. Percy can’t remember exactly what he said, something about the rat being innocent and Gabe being an asshole—he definitely didn’t say that last part exactly, though. Gabe had just bent down and snarled something about learning how to become a man in Percy’s face, then stalked off to bed, shutting all the lights as he went. Percy and his mother were left in the dark, and Percy could feel his mother’s heart beating against his back just as quickly as his was. He was crying, not for the pain in the back of his head or the fear of his step-father or for anything other than the fact that the rat deserved better. Percy believed it was an injustice, and it left him feeling like there was a slick layer of grease or slime or something vile and uncomfortable covering him from head to toe. 

His mother walked him to bed, tucked him in, wiped away his tears for him, pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him over the eyebrow. She promised that she would cut his hair to cover the missing patch, apologized over and over again until they were both crying, and Percy felt worse as he watched his mother’s tears fall than he had as he watched that rat tumble to its death. He felt like an utter piece of shit for making his mother feel the way she did in that moment, and when he woke up the next morning and she told him he would be attending a school in Connecticut from that point forward, he couldn’t find it in him to argue.

Percy felt like a rat trapped beneath a mixing bowl as he packed his bags and got ready for what would be his last day of school in Manhattan for the year. If his mother threw him off the fire escape, he wouldn’t fault her. She would have been better off without him, anyway.

It’s all Percy can think about as he watches a large muskrat scurry out of its den and through the tall grass of a marsh behind a rest stop in Nebraska. He hasn’t really thought about it in years, and his hand subconsciously goes to the back of his head as he tugs on the hair there, hard, but not hard enough. That slimy feeling overcomes him once more and he doesn’t realize that he’s still grasping onto his hair until Piper comes up beside him and untangles his fingers from his curls.

“What, you don’t like the haircut I gave you?” she asks, running her fingers over the spot soothingly. 

He shakes his head a bit, keeps his eyes on the large rodent as he does. 

“It’s perfect,” he says, following the creature’s movements. “Sometimes I miss it.”

“What? Your long hair?”

“Taking pictures in places like this.”

She sighs and hooks her arm through his.

“Haven’t really seen you with your camera that much, lately. Unless it’s during a show,” she remarks, and he shrugs. “Even before you got this gig, you always had a camera on you, Perce.”

He takes a deep breath and narrows his eyes as the fat bastard abandons land and disappears underwater. 

“Neck got tired of carrying the weight,” he mutters, watching the water ripple as the creature moves beneath it.

“Or maybe you just got tired, period,” she suggests, and he inhales heavily and finally breaks, looks down at her.

“Maybe,” he concedes. 

She knits her eyebrows.

“That’s alright,” she says quietly, leaning her lips on his arm. “When you get tired we’ll be here to see you through it.”

He feels his throat tighten.

“Be easier to toss me into the marsh, wouldn’t it?” he mutters, trying for humor, but failing miserably. 

“Probably,” Piper muses, then looks up at him seriously. “I don’t give a shit about what’s easy, Percy. I care about you. And whether you like it or not I am going to be here for you until the day I fucking die. You get tired, I’ll tuck you in. You can’t lift your camera, I’ll guide your hand. You nearly rip your fucking hair out, I’ll comb it through for you. You will not get rid of me no matter how hard you try. You can convince yourself that you’re a burden on the people you love or you can accept the fact that we know you and see you and still choose to love you, every fucking day. Am I clear?”

He tries to swallow the lump in his throat and Piper wipes at his face for him, then pulls him down to her in a bone-crushing hug. Piper’s hugs are like nothing else in the world, second only to his mother’s. She always squeezes with just the right pressure, in just the right place, so that he feels its effects through his entire body. Already Percy feels the suffocating tightness in his chest start to subside, and he hugs her back just as fiercely, needs her to know that he’s not quite done yet. 

He doesn’t understand how it is that a few weeks ago he was the happiest he had been in months, and now he is just fucking full to the brim with an emptiness that’s rooted in the pit of his stomach, far beyond the vice in his chest. There, between his ribs and around his heart, he knows there is fear and guilt and shame and darkness and anger and exhaustion and frustration and inadequacy and they hold him in an ironclad grip each and every waking moment. But lower down, beneath it all, in the bottom of his belly, is a numbness that threatens to spread through the rest of him, an indifference and a nothingness that he has been fighting since the first moment he realized how much easier his mother’s life would be without him. Since she first sent him away in the hopes that it might keep him safe despite barely having the money to support him through public school. 

It has lurked there for years and it has reared its ugly head in moments that Percy used to be believe were totally insignificant. A failed test, a fight with a bully, a man with a bald spot on the subway, a cigar burning a hole in a couch, a loose curl falling down his neck, a film roll lost to fire in the world’s longest bout of darkness. That same darkness, unrelenting except for a few hours a day, enveloping him until he cannot bring himself to try anymore, until the sun rises and they convince him to go out and he comes back to the sunless sky to find that his entire life has been wasted on a pipe dream. He thinks it may have followed him, despite leaving it behind the moment he stepped on the plane back to New York. He thinks it may have crept its way down his throat and into his chest and then split itself in two and slunk down into his stomach and taken its place in his gut to lie in wait for the moment it could help the nothingness spread until Percy becomes nothing himself. 

And as Piper holds him and shows him just how much she loves him, refuses to turn her back on him, he thinks he finally finds it in him to put it to words, to explain what has happened and what he has been feeling. He tells her as much, whispers it so quietly he’s surprised she can hear him, and so she nods and takes his hand and leads him out of the foggy marsh and back to the van. Everyone is inside the rest stop building, either eating or stretching their legs, so it’s just the two of them as they climb in through the back doors and settle down across from each other. Percy isn’t exactly sure what he wants or needs to say, but he knows that he must say _something_ , anything, before it’s too late for him. Before the emptiness spreads and he is left a shell of a person, indifferent and numb and unfeeling.

“You hair actually does look really good today,” Piper mutters, adjusting his curls gently as she looks his face over. 

She meets his eyes and smiles a bit, holds his face in her hands, and he sighs and holds his hands over hers.

“I thought I was getting better,” he mumbles, because the pressure of both of their hands squeezing his cheeks makes his lips pucker. “And I just—what the fuck, man. It’s bullshit. I feel like I’m back to square one again, and it fucking sucks.” 

She nods and he sighs heavily again, shuts his eyes as she holds his cheeks a bit more gently. 

“I’m so fucking tired, Piper,” he whispers, because it’s easier than trying to describe the difference between the things in his chest and his stomach and he isn’t sure he can bring himself to talk about them so directly right now, anyway. “I’m exhausted. All the time. Sleep doesn’t help. But it’s all I want to do. But it’s not like…I don’t know. I’m not totally sapped of energy to the point where I can’t get out of bed or take care of myself and I’m not, like, crying all the time or anything. So I feel like I can’t complain. Because I can live my life. I can function. And I am. Doing that. I just…I’m struggling a bit, I guess.”

She asks him to open his eyes and he when he does he finds that she is frowning, and she moves her hands from his face to hold his in her lap instead.

“Percy, just because you’re not majorly depressed doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid,” she tells him. “People experience these things differently, to different extents. Functional depression is depression nonetheless. A panic attack is a panic attack. Just because it’s not totally taking over the way you live your life doesn’t mean it’s not affecting it. You’re allowed to feel the way you do without having to feel guilty for it or like it’s not real. It is real, because you’re living it, and you’re right—it fucking sucks.”

He feels his face soften, then, grateful for her understanding like he’s never been before.

“I wish I had something better to say to you than that,” she mutters and kisses his knuckles. “I wish I could take all your pain and make it my own so you’d never have to feel it again. You deserve better than the hand you’ve been dealt, Perce. I wish you could see that, too.”

His throat constricts, then, and he wants to tell her that she is so very wrong, that he deserves this, but his voice betrays him and his eyes go blurry and he thinks he sees hers do the same. She leans her forehead against his and he exhales heavily, shuts his eyes. He isn’t quite sure what he’s done to deserve to have someone as emotionally intelligent and genuinely kind as Piper for a best friend, but he knows he will never take her for granted for as long as he lives. He will show her every day just how much he loves and appreciates her, until she gets so sick of it that she can’t stand him anymore. 

“You’re going to have ups and downs,” she mutters. “We all do. There’s no such thing as just getting better, you know? It takes time, and in that time you’re going to have setbacks and pitfalls and you’re probably gonna be fucking miserable, too. But you’re still moving forward.”

“Feels more like I’m stuck,” he responds, his voice thick, and she nods against his head before pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Her eyes are damp and her irises are dark as ever, nearly as black as her pupils. They’re kind of stunning, and they remind him of all the times he has stood on beaches in the middle of the night and watched the moon reflect off the water, the waves so dark that he questioned where the ocean floor might be. The uncertainty of it thrilled him in an unsettling way, but he was never afraid. He was in awe of the sea, of its raw power, of the fact that even in the daylight it was still so obscure and so unknown. He feels the same way when he looks into Piper’s eyes, recognizes that same power within her. It almost feels like coming home. 

“I know,” she tells him. “But I meant what I said before—I am going to be here until you get unstuck, and then I’m going to be here after that, and after that, and after that. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is Hazel or Grover or anyone else. Whatever you need, we have your back. Always.”

He swallows and nods, and she wipes the last of his tears away for him, and he does the same for her. She pulls him into another hug, wraps her arms around his stomach and squeezes once, twice, three times—and just holds that pressure, even and firm and sure. It’s a certainty and a steadiness that fights back against the emptiness that exists there, a pressure that threatens the work of its spread, keeps it at bay, for just a little while longer. As he wraps his arms around her he thinks he will take what he can get, even if it’s only for those few brief moments. 

Peace, in the midst of all the awful shit raging and battling within him for control. Time to catch his breath and feel like one day he might be whole again.

—

_Cut to the chase, now, there’s nowhere to run_

~~ _Been here through the darkness, I’ll be here til it’s done_ ~~

Percy purses his lips as he struggles to read the lines over Hazel’s shoulder, watches her cross out line after line, always writing and rewriting. Hazel’s handwriting is one of the only prints he can read without getting a migraine, because she makes all the letters that usually get all fucked up just different enough so that he can tell them apart. She denies learning to write that way specifically for him, and he denies memorizing her style in the first place—they don’t talk about it. The top of the page reads _HVAC_ , and Percy knits his eyebrows.

“HVAC?” he questions, right in her ear because he’s so close behind her, and she jumps a bit. “Like heating, ventilation, and air conditioning?”

“Percy!” she scolds, shutting her notebook quickly. “Do not read over my shoulder.”

He frowns. “But it’s a song. I’m gonna hear it eventually anyway.”

“You’re going to hear the finished product—do not violate my process.”

He sighs and wraps his arms around her from behind, rests his chin on her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and she sighs too and knocks her head against his. “I really liked all the things you crossed out, though.”

She purses her lips. “None of it is good enough.”

“Overachiever.”

“Visual artist.”

“Wannabe punk.”

“Tone-deaf nincompoop.”

He digs his chin into her shoulder hard and she squirms and tries to break free of his grasp, but he’s holding on tight.

“Percy, you are making a _scene_ ,” she hisses. “They’ll never let us back at this radio station again.”

He grins and releases her, smacks a kiss onto her cheek before he rolls away on his spinning chair. He ends up crashing into Annabeth, and she lets out an “oof,” almost falling out of her own chair. He grabs onto her sleeve to keep her upright and she she exhales a breath, putting her hand over her heart.

“Fuck, dude,” she breathes. “Nearly knocked me out.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I have too much energy and nowhere to put it. Why is this room so small?”

“It’s a radio station greenroom, it’s basically a supply closet,” she responds, and he knits his eyebrows.

“I’m feeling claustrophobic. I need an open field to run around in.”

“Like a golden retriever?”

“Exactly like a golden retriever, thank you so much for understanding.”

She grins and nudges him, then spins in her chair so she’s facing him and throws her long legs over his lap.

“Now you can’t wreak any more havoc,” she informs him, and his legs start bouncing immediately, jostling hers around. 

She gives him a pointed look and he sends her an apologetic one, but he accepted when he woke up that morning that today was going to be a rough one. The sky was bright but it was drizzling in Portland and there was so much to do, so many possibilities for a day off, but he had been carted off to a local radio station greenroom the size of a shoebox instead. So he needs to roll around and annoy his friends before he implodes on himself, or explodes all over the linoleum floors and stained walls.

“Aren’t you medicated?” she asks him, and he knits his eyebrows.

“That’s incredibly rude,” he tells her, and her face drops.

“Sorry, I'm so sorry, you’re right—”

“I’m fucking with you. My prescription ran out weeks ago. It’s me and the hyperactivity now, baby.”

Her eyes widen a fraction and he grins and pinches her ankle, to which she reacts by nearly kicking him in the face. 

“Jeez, Chase, are you trying to break my jaw?” 

“If it gets you to shut the fuck up for three seconds, maybe.”

His jaw drops in offense and she laughs wildly, throwing her head back. He is definitely not paying attention to the way her curls fall around her shoulders, or looking at the curve of her throat as she tilts her head back. He turns his attention instead to Thalia, who, as usual, is asleep in her wife’s lap. Reyna is playing the slap game with Piper, and Piper hasn’t been able to get Reyna even once. Hazel gives up on writing and rolls into the middle of the room, spinning around and singing opera as she does. Piper tries and fails again to slap Reyna’s hands and Annabeth attempts to give Percy a wet willy.

“Fuck this!” Piper exclaims, frustrated with the game, just as the assistant who led them to the room comes in. 

Her eyes widen and she looks afraid, probably because of the pure chaos she is witnessing—Hazel standing up on her chair and spinning around in the middle of the room, Thalia snoring loudly, Percy and Annabeth stuck in a deadlock as he tries to shove her off of him and she resists, Piper looking about ready to murder Reyna. They all stop what they’re doing and look at her, then Piper smiles politely and stands, clears her throat.

“Time for the show?” she asks in a professional voice, and the girl nods slowly, eyes bugging out of her head.

They all collect themselves and follow her into the studio, which is much larger and more exciting than that damn closet. Piper and Percy take their seats on the small couch against the wall that’s behind the two hosts’ chairs after greeting them both, and the girls sit in a circle around the large table. Annabeth takes the seat closest to Piper and Percy with her back partially to them, then comes Hazel, who is the only one Percy can see properly, then Thalia, then Reyna. Percy meets Hazel’s eyes and scrunches up his nose, sticks out his tongue, and she sends him the same look back as she puts on the headphones. Once they are on she is totally composed, a perfect image of poise and grace, but then she tries to adjust her seat and nearly falls out, and Percy has to slap his hand over his mouth so as not to laugh out loud. Piper struggles as well and she buries her face in his shoulder while Thalia laughs loudly, pointing at her.

“Fuck you, Grace,” Hazel grumbles, and the hosts laugh a bit as well.

“Good thing we weren’t live yet,” one of them says, a white guy with glasses and a beard and a full sleeve of tattoos that are so chaotic Percy can’t even pick one out to focus on. 

Percy thinks he looks like a typical indie radio host, or what he might imagine if someone asked him to picture one in his head. Annabeth turns to face him a bit and Percy can make out the look of confusion on her scrunched-up face as she stares at his arm. Obviously she’s having the same difficulty as Percy, because she looks up at the man, then down at his arm, then back up at his face again, and mouths “what the fuck” to Percy and Piper over her shoulder. He bites the inside of his cheek to suppress the smile that threatens to break out onto his face any moment as Annabeth turns back and finds that the man had been watching her the whole time.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll have plenty more where that came from for when you go live, Benny,” Thalia says, and his eyes widen a fraction as he laughs a bit, unsure what to do. She just winks at him.

“Two minutes!” someone calls from the sound booth, and the hosts look at each other, then the band.

“You ready?” the woman asks them, and Hazel nods.

“Just don’t ask us any racist questions and we’ll be A plus, Kat,” she says, shooting the host finger-guns, and Kat’s eyes nearly fall out of her head from how hard they bug out. 

Reyna laughs a bit and Hazel grins, looks at Percy and rolls her eyes. They’ve been here before, apparently, are comfortable enough with the station, but they’ve never been interviewed by these two hosts specifically. Piper made sure to screen the questions herself this time around, and deemed them safe and sound, so the girls had no problem accepting. The person in the sound booth calls out a countdown as Percy cuddles up to Piper’s side and she knocks her head against his temple and links her arm through his. Hazel seems to be busy staring at Annabeth, totally zoned out, and Percy knits his eyebrows in concern. She has that little crinkle between her eyebrows which never means anything good, and he wonders what is going on behind that forehead of hers.

“Gooooood morning, Portland, it’s Benny and Kat here live for the first time ever with our new favorite band, _Demi_ ,” Benny says into the microphone once the big red ON AIR sign flicks to life.

“Ladies, would you like to introduce yourselves?” Kat says, and Hazel straightens in her seat, as if she had forgotten where she was.

Percy purses his lips as he watches her, focuses on her and her alone. She's tense and out of touch, seems as though she's having trouble focusing, and Percy's worry only grows further.

“Uh, guess, I’ll go first,” Annabeth says. “Hi. I’m Annabeth. I like hitting things.”

Kat laughs a bit. 

“Drummers,” she remarks in that perfect radio voice that Percy doesn’t think he could ever put on no matter how hard he tries. 

He and Piper exchange equally unsettled looks.

“I’m Hazel. I like to sing. I have been known to also hit things sometimes, but not with drumsticks.”

The hosts laugh again and Percy wonders where the fuck they keep their second personalities, because he can barely manage his half of one. He watches as Thalia introduces herself, using as many expletives as she can fit in, and Benny looks about ready to pass out. Piper’s grip on Percy’s arm tightens and she lifts out of her seat a bit to send Thalia a threatening look, but Thalia just sticks her tongue out and leans back into her seat, satisfied with herself. Reyna introduces herself next, and hearing how smooth and rich her voice is, Percy realizes she fits in perfectly here. He pictures her wearing oval-shaped sunglasses and a flat-cap, introducing the world to lesser known jazz musicians, and shudders a bit. It’s a little too fitting a scene for his liking. 

The interview carries on rather smoothly from there, and the person in the sound booth seems to be on high alert whenever Thalia speaks because they are ready with the censor and they manage to catch her every time. She deflates at that a bit and stops trying to sneak in banned words, and then Kat asks the band how they got their name. Thalia sinks even further into her seat, probably sick of a question they’ve answered hundreds of times, and they all look to Hazel, who seems not to mind all the repetition.

“Um, well, we met at this camp for—troubled kids, I guess you could say? We all had learning disabilities, some of us physical disabilities, um—some of us were just Black or brown and poor and instead of addressing racism in the classroom the school psychologists told us we were ornery and out of control or most of the time, that we were just _bad_ , so we got sent there against our will.” She pauses, then. “One of our camp directors was like, just the most incredible human being alive, and he knew everything about everything. When it wasn’t summer he was a Latin and history teacher and he was also a music instructor on the side, and so he would always find ways to link together the stuff he was great at with all the things kids like us used as an outlet.

“One day he set up this game for us, a scavenger hunt, and it was a way to learn Latin prefixes and suffixes, and me and Annabeth were paired up.” She smiles at Annabeth and Annabeth scoots a little closer to her, maybe subconsciously. “Anyway, we got this one card, and it said _demi_ , and Annabeth was so sure of what it meant—half. That’s what it’s known for, anyway. But there’s a lesser known translation, a connotation that implies not just the objective amount but the subjective _worth_. Demi means less than, inferior to. And we’d been struggling for the past couple of summers to come up with a band name, always switching back and forth, but it just—it fit, you know? All of us, in some form or another, were made to feel inferior at some point in our lives, whether it was by our family or our peers or, for Reyna and me, total strangers. 

“I was 12 when we chose that name. I was 12 and I had already learned that I was automatically less than the people around me, just because of the color of my skin. I understood that young that it’s not just individuals, but _systems_ that do the oppressing, that assigned my life worth before I was ever born. Demi has a different meaning to all of us, but we chose that name because we were determined to take back the power, to make our lives worth more than what the world and our families and the people around us told us they were.”

“It’s why we do what we do,” Reyna speaks up now. “Why we write the songs we do, why we use our social media platforms to share resources and information and ways to get involved. We always get asked why we’re so political—the answer is because we were born and raised in a political society. Our existence in a country like this, a country built on systems that purposefully keep BIPOC down, is political in and of itself, whether we like it or not. Being a part of and supporting the LGBTQ community—for some reason _that’s_ political. Being apolitical is a privilege that none of us in this band or our crew have, because each one of us has been shaped in the image of what this country decides for us, in some form or another. If we didn’t use our platform to make others aware, to try to bring about change, what would it all be for?”

“Holy shit,” Kat breathes into the mic, and Benny puts his face in his hands. “Thank you guys, for that. We usually get just these canned, disingenuous responses from artists who are jaded or think they’re too cool to answer simple questions.” She pauses, then, seems like she’s considering her words. “I think I speak for all of us at UndergroundFX when I say that you’ll always have a platform here with us, and we’ll do our best to amplify your voices, always.”

“Not just ours,” Hazel says. “Not just the BIPOC or LGBTQ artists who talk about the things we do, but the ones who make music about joy and love and everything in between.”

“I’d like to think we make that kind of music, too,” Reyna says. “We just write and sing about our lives as a whole, but it’s such a large part of who we are that it’s hard not to get branded as a ‘political’ band. And it’s absolutely insane to me that we’ve accepted the fact that those forms of oppression are considered acceptable and valid views at all. We wouldn’t be considered a political band if the power structures within this country didn’t allow for the existence of the obstacles we face every day.”

“Which brings us back to your earlier point, Reyna, about how just living your life here is so ingrained with politics that it’s inseparable from any of your experiences,” Benny finally speaks up, and Piper and Percy exchange surprised looks. Who would’ve thunk it? 

“So you see now how we’re always treading in dangerous waters,” Hazel says. “Everything we do will be politicized or criticized no matter how we do it. So just—fuck it, right?”

Benny nods along. “Fuck it,” he says, and everyone in the room breaks out into cheers for the fact that he’s overcome his former aversion to forbidden words.

“I think we should talk more about that,” Kat says as everyone settles down. “The joy and the love and the everything in between. What is something that makes each of you really, truly happy?”

The girls quiet and Percy leans his head against Piper’s, considers the question himself. Really, truly happy. The easy answer, the first thing that pops into his head, is his mother, obviously. He can only be the happiest he will ever be if she is there with him. But Percy can’t deny the fact that their relationship is laced with guilt and pain and struggle, too. That he still feels responsible for all the suffering his mother endured for so many years. The weight of that responsibility rests firmly in place in his chest, makes up most of the mass of that god-awful vice clamped tight around his heart. He supposes it must be a conditional happiness, one that relies on how much he can bear to remember and feel in the moment. Maybe not happiness in its purest form, then.

He looks at Hazel, watches her scrunch up her face in thought, can almost see the gears of her mind turning. He thinks about everything they have been through together, thinks about Grover and Thalia and Piper, his oldest, best friends. Thinks about all the people he has come to love now. Happiness exists here, too, but he can’t say it’s free of impurities, either. But just because that happiness is sometimes tainted with whatever negative bullshit Percy’s mind brings into it, does that mean it isn’t real or true? He frowns as he looks his best friend over, tries hard to find an answer to that question. 

Four weeks ago he might say no, it doesn’t mean that at all. Now, in the place he is at, he can’t be sure. His mind is foggy and he knows better, rationally. He knows happiness is happiness whether or not he may also feel fear or guilt or shame or sadness, he really does. But knowing it and feeling it, letting it seep into his bones and soften him up so that he may truly understand it, are two very different things. 

He watches as Hazel looks at Annabeth, and her face softens, and—it really, really softens. It’s like every muscle of hers has relaxed and she is—well, really, truly happy. She smiles a soft little smile, looks down at her hands, and suddenly everything clicks into place, and Percy feels like an utter fool for not seeing it earlier. 

“My happiest moments are always spent with the love of my life,” Thalia says, interrupting his revelation, which Percy thinks is really quite rude. 

She takes Reyna’s hand and kisses her knuckles and despite Percy’s racing mind and heart he smiles, because after all she’s been through, Thalia deserves that real, true happiness. 

“Also napping,” she adds.

The hosts laugh and Reyna grins and rolls her eyes. Percy’s eyes dart back to Hazel, who is fully avoiding everyone’s eye-line, and has taken to staring at a wall. 

“I feel a like a bit of a dick for my answer, now,” Reyna says into the mic, and he looks to see Thalia raise her eyebrows. “Any time I get to run. I mean, long-distance run. 15 miles, full-on terrain, music blasting, I’m one with Mother Earth, all that good shit.” Thalia pouts and Reyna mirrors her expression. “You refuse to run with me, that’s not my fault.” Thalia takes her hand back and her wife grins and kisses her shoulder. “And obviously whenever I get to spend real quality time with the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the moon to my sun—”

“You’re not getting out of this one with flattery,” Thalia grumbles, and Percy grins.

“This is the opposite of what this question was supposed to elicit, probably,” Benny comments, and Kat laughs nervously.

“So sorry,” she says, and looks at Hazel pleadingly. “Hazel? Thoughts?”

She shakes her head like she’s clearing it, looks a bit confused until her gaze settles on Percy. He offers her an encouraging smile, and it breaks his fucking heart when she smiles back at him so brightly that he feels like he’s been blinded. He loves this girl far too much to ever be the reason that smile might fade. He can never— _will_ never—do anything to jeopardize the happiness she is gearing up to talk about.

“I think I’m at my happiest when I’m with the people I love,” she says, still holding Percy’s gaze. “My band and my crew and my best friends, my brothers—they’re all my family.” He catches that plural _brothers_ , bites the inside of his cheek to fight back the tears. “And every night that I step out onto stage I know I’m doing it with their full support, with them cheering me on, I think I feel that happiness. Having people who have my back, feeling loved by the people I love—that’s what it is.” She finally tears her eyes from Percy to look at Benny and Kat, glances quickly at Annabeth, almost nervously, but turns her attention back to the hosts. “It’s just—it’s love. Giving it and receiving it. That’s my happiness.”

“Fuck, dude, do you have to be so wholesome?” Annabeth complains, and the hosts laugh. Percy is too busy dabbing at his eyes to be amused. “I—okay. I’ve thought very hard about this. And my answer for you is that I have no clue.” She pauses, lets it sink in, and continues. “I don’t know what that question even means, really. Real, true happiness? I don’t—happiness is more of like a state of being, I think. It’s a way of life. Joy is different. Joy is momentary—happiness is permanent. I can’t say that I’ve gotten to a place in my life where I’m really truly happy, at least not yet. I’m only 25. I haven’t achieved nearly as much as I plan to, and I don’t think I’ll ever be truly happy unless I feel like I’ve reached my fullest potential. I have too much time left to be able to say I’ve experienced anything like what I think real, true happiness is. But I do feel joy, and I feel it often and I feel it strongly—like, so strong it’s overwhelming sometimes. It’s when I’m on stage playing music with my best friends, and it’s when I’m offstage studying the things that interest me, reading and learning and just gaining as much knowledge as I possibly can.”

“Nerd,” Thalia coughs, and Annabeth flips her off.

“Maybe that is nerdy, yeah, but it’s true. I have so much life left to live. I’d hate to think I peaked before 30.”

“Alright, Baby Socrates, go off,” Reyna remarks, earning a few laughs, but Percy considers Annabeth's words, rolls them around in his head.

He wonders what it all means to him, if he’s on par with Hazel or Annabeth, or if he’s caught somewhere in between the two. He doesn’t think it’s very fair to himself to try to assess these parts of his life when he feels trapped between the things festering in his stomach and his chest and he starts to wonder if he’s ever been happy at all. _Don’t do that_ , he thinks, fighting it. Of course he’s been happy. Even if some of his happiest—or most joyful?—moments have been followed by some of his worst, they were still good. 

He won’t allow the numbness to creep into his skull and penetrate his mind—he _won’t._ He holds onto Piper a little tighter and she snuggles up to him and he lets the feeling of her knees and shoulder and head pressed against his side ground him. She is here and she loves him. Hazel and Annabeth and Reyna and Thalia are here, and they love him, too. He is loved, and he loves. And now he understands Hazel in a way he always thought he had, until this moment when it all becomes so much clearer. 

To be happy is to love and to be loved. Or maybe love isn’t the definition of happiness, but he knows for a fact that it is an absolute requirement. There is no way in hell Percy could ever be really, truly happy without these people. It’s the reason why, he thinks, being away from them for so long took such a terrible toll on him. Alaska was, without a doubt, a step into fresh hell, but deep down Percy knows that he had been lonely and longing for his friends since the moment he first left them. There is no true happiness, or true joy, without that love. 

As Percy listens to Thalia answering a question about how she came up with her most complicated guitar solo, watches Reyna’s face as she admires her wife, witnesses the gentle sweetness of Hazel’s gaze on Annabeth, he feels that truth overwhelm him. No matter where he is or what he is doing, he will always need them, and the reassurance of Piper’s hand squeezing his at the exact moment he needs to feel it tells him that he will always have them, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I've put up 12 chapters as the total for the story, but that might change depending on if I add an epilogue/split up the last chapter. Definitely won't be any less, but might end up being more because, as you can tell from the 10 billion word count, I cannot Shut Up.  
> Thank you so much if you've read this far, it truly does mean the world.


	8. when you build your house then call me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap of last chapter's missing bits if you skipped: Percy is still struggling with his past trauma, Piper and Percy's friendship will never fail to give me life, Percy still misses his mom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too heavy this chapter, but just a little content warning like usual:  
> -Chapter deals with feelings of self-doubt, worthlessness  
> -There is a moment where Percy does have some anxiety but it's not too descriptive and it's fairly mild  
> -Chapter title is from the song Sara by Fleetwood Mac  
> Thanks so much for reading!

_August/September_

_Sticky_. That’s the only word Percy can think to use to describe the weather outside as he walks the few feet from the band’s bus to the back doors of the Seattle venue. It is hot and humid and absolutely disgusting, and he grimaces as he pulls at his shirt while he walks through the halls of the venue to find the greenroom. Thankfully the building has A/C, but Percy’s hair has already frizzed out to an abominable size, his jeans are stuck to his body in all the wrong places, and everything is just—it’s fucking _gross_. He finds Hazel in the greenroom, exactly where he expects to, and she exhales heavily in relief when she sees him with a bag full of her hair products and takes her place on a chair in the middle of the room. Percy moves to stand behind her and begins prepping her hair, sectioning it off so he can begin the braiding process.

Hazel had decided a few shows back that it was high time she switched from her natural afro to cornrows, mostly because of how hot it was and how sick she was of having to use the insane amount of product she needs to keep her hair looking the way she wants it to. Silena, having textured hair herself, would have been the one to do this for her, but that morning she and Clarisse left early in the name of what Silena described as “best friend bonding” and Hazel couldn’t bear to wait another day. So the task was left up to Percy, who has been braiding Hazel’s hair since they were young. She learned early on that Percy loved braiding his own mother’s hair, and while Sally's hair is extremely thick and curly, it is still not nearly as coily as Hazel’s. His hair was more similar in texture to Hazel’s than his mom’s, but Hazel always assumed he got it from his dad, and never found it in her to ask him about that particular point, at least not until they were much older. One day, to stop herself from bringing it up, she asked him to try to braid her hair instead, and to be gentle, because she was sensitive. From that point forward whenever Hazel needed some cheering up or a break from all the relaxers her step-mother would force her to use, she would seek out Percy’s help. 

Now, as he works slowly, meticulously working in edge tamer and leave-in conditioner, they find themselves in a familiar position, fall into their old routine. Percy will take as much time as necessary to ensure that the job is done right, and that it is done gently, because he cannot bear the thought of ever hurting her, even if it means staying in the same place for hours on end. As he braids people come in and out of the room—Piper does some work for a while, Grover lounges on a couch eating grapes, Thalia uses Hazel’s immobility against her to give her a wet willy, Reyna scolds her wife for being immature and then gives Hazel one in her other ear. Mostly, though, they are alone, and it is comforting and warm and right, to spend this time together, whether it is spent in silence or not. They talk about anything and everything, philosophizing, reminiscing, bickering—Percy hasn’t realized how much he misses spending time with her, just the two of them, until moments like these, and he can’t help but lean down and kiss her temple as he works.

“What’s that for?” Hazel asks, and he smiles a bit.

“I just love you, is all,” he says, and she turns a bit and narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. 

“Sus.”

He laughs, then, and turns her head back forward.

“I can’t tell my best friend that I love her?” he asks, feigning offense.

“No. What do you want?” she says defensively, and he rolls his eyes.

“A kidney. I’m gonna sell it on the black market to pay my rent.”

“Only if I get a cut of the profits.”

“20/80.”

“Bullshit, it’s my kidney. 60/40.”

“Absolutely not, I’m doing all the legwork. 30/70, and that’s my final offer.”

“Fuck that. This is the reason why there’s a wage gap.”

Percy laughs as Annabeth walks in, in a pair of leggings and a sports bra, her headphones on. Percy absolutely refuses to look at the beauty marks scattered across her abdomen, which is muscular and firm and—holy fuck she’s just absolutely ripped. He focuses very closely on Hazel’s braids and when Annabeth sees them both she grins and pulls her headphones down to rest around her neck, heads over to the mini-fridge and grabs a bottle of water.

“You’re a hairstylist now?” Annabeth asks as she cracks open her water. “Is there anything you can’t do, Jackson?”

“Read,” he tells her, and she frowns.

“Bullshit. You’ve read. I’ve seen it.”

“Audiobooks. I’m always listening and following along.”

She knits her eyebrows and looks to Hazel for confirmation, who nods once.

“Percy has severe dyslexia,” she informs Annabeth, and the drummer raises her eyebrows.

“Shit, dude, that’s rough,” she says. “I have it too, just…mildly.”

Percy shrugs.

“It’s whatever. Audiobooks are fun. The narrators always put on different voices for the dialogue and it’s fuckin' hilarious,” he says.

Annabeth grins. “Have you listened to any Dr. Seuss? It’s comedy gold.”

“Don’t even get me started, I love that shit.”

Annabeth grins and looks down at Hazel, who is being uncharacteristically quiet. Annabeth leans down to his best friend and juts out her lower lip, squeezes Hazel’s cheeks.

“Your cheeks are just phenomenal,” she tells her. “You are so fuckin’ cute.”

Percy tries his best not to outwardly wince for his best friend, but then Annabeth smacks a kiss onto Hazel’s nose and releases her, standing up.

“I—”

Percy is about to do the world’s dumbest, most selfish thing, and say something about how he’s been told he has phenomenal cheeks, too, but he shuts his mouth quickly, his teeth clacking together. He has not forgotten his earlier resolve, his determination to never stand in the way of Hazel’s happiness, so he will monitor himself fiercely, no matter how fuckin’ weird it may make him seem. Annabeth knits her eyebrows and frowns at him.

“What?” she asks and he purses his lips.

“I—I’m trying to work here, and you’re disrupting my process. Get out of here, Chase,” he says firmly, and apparently it works.

She narrows her eyes at him and then smacks his face between her two hands, hard, sends Hazel a wink, and goes on her way. Percy sighs and makes sure the coast is clear before speaking up.

“Sorry I kicked her out,” he mutters, and Hazel stiffens.

“I don’t care,” she lies, and he purses his lips, tries to decide what to do.

“Well, I just figured since you’re in love with her—”

She whips around quickly, then, and in the process pulls some of her hair out of Percy’s firm grasp, then winces. Thankfully it is all still attached to her head and not in his hand.

“Oh shit, oh shit, Hazel—fuck. You tender-headed fool, why did you _do that_?” he says as he rubs at her scalp, trying to soothe the spot.

“You fuckin’—what the fuck? _Me_? How are you—fuck you, Percy. Why—oh for fuck’s sake,” she grumbles, and pushes his hands away from her completely, then spins around to face him and stands. “Why would you say something like that?” Hazel demands, hands on her hips.

He knits his eyebrows. “The truth, you mean?”

She frowns, then, looks like she’s about to argue, but he sends her a sharp look and she deflates a bit, her shoulders dropping, her hands going limp at her sides.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you,” he begins gently. “But Hazel—it’s okay. You don’t have to keep those feelings a secret, anymore. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” she mutters, looking down at her hands. “It’s just—old habits, I guess.”

He nods and reaches out to hold her small hands in his, and when she looks up at him he sees the little kid from 10 years ago, tiny and lost and afraid. She was 12 and she’d just come back from summer camp and she was absolutely heartbroken because the first girl she ever had a crush on—Reyna—had started dating one of her other bandmates, Percy’s not-cousin Thalia. It wasn’t even really the fact that Reyna was with Thalia, Percy remembers her telling him. It was the fact that she’d had those feelings at all, wasn’t sure what they meant or how to deal with them. She knew she certainly couldn’t tell her parents, and she was still too distant from Nico and Bianca after all that happened between their father and mothers to go to them, so she sought out Percy instead. Percy had no idea what to tell her, having only dealt with a similar situation himself that past year, but he knew he had to do _something_ , to support her in any way he could, because she certainly wasn’t going to get that support anywhere else.

So he’d sat her down and sectioned off her hair and braided it once again, the way they always did whenever either of them had something they weren’t sure how to ask or say or express with words. Sometimes, they had tacitly conceded, there really weren’t any words that could cover it. Sometimes you just needed the other person to be there for you, in whatever capacity. 

And now, as Percy kisses her knuckles and sits her back down and continues what he started earlier, she exhales heavily through her nose and scrubs her face with her hands. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she mutters quietly, and he shakes his head despite her not being able to see it.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Hazel,” he tells her. “Never, ever apologize for these things, alright? I understand. It’s difficult, to unlearn the things we do when we’re kids. It’s nothing to be sorry about.” She nods a bit and he frowns. “You know I’m always here for you, though, right? You know that no matter what, I will always, _always_ support you? And that you don’t have to hide who you are anymore?”

She nods again. 

“I know,” she says, her voice thick, and he feels his chest ache for her.

He kisses her temple again and she reaches back and squeezes his forearm. 

“I think I was also—I didn’t want it to be true,” she mutters. “I mean, she’s one of my best friends. It felt wrong and gross. And I wasn’t even sure if it was real, anyway. I just—I still don’t. I don’t know if it’s love or just admiration, I can’t be sure anymore. I haven’t been able to have any real chance to think about it for like, three years. We’re always together. There’s no distance, you know?” 

He nods. “It must have been so hard for you, keeping those things to yourself for so long.”

She shrugs a bit. “It hasn’t been that long, not the full three years. It’s just—recently, really. This past year. Since we’ve been touring so much, and everyone’s been working nonstop.” 

_Since you’ve been gone more than ever before_ , he hears her say. Since she’s only really had her band to turn to and hasn’t been able to come to him as much. He pushes those thoughts aside and focuses on her here, now. 

“What’s it like?” he mutters, finally finishing her second-to-last braid, flexing his hands before he moves onto the next one. 

She sighs heavily.

“It fucking sucks,” she half-laughs, and he almost smiles at how convoluted it all is. “I don’t know why but it’s just been worse lately. Like, I turn into a fucking weirdo every time she’s around. What the fuck is wrong with me? She’s one of my best friends. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

He knits his eyebrows.

“As someone who has plenty of experience turning into an awkward weirdo around crushes,” he begins, and she laughs a bit, “I would like to say that you haven’t been nearly as bad as you could be. I wouldn’t know if I were her.”

“Yeah?” she asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” he says softly, and every word they exchange digs into him a little deeper. “You’re doing great, kid. You have nothing to worry about.” 

He pauses and they are quiet as he works on her last braid, his hands shaking a bit. He needs to collect himself, get a grip, for her sake. He needs to be here for her right now, no matter how he may feel—this is not about Percy, it is about Hazel. So he will act as he always does, do his best to help her in whatever way he can.

“Have you ever considered maybe…telling her about it?” he asks her, and she nearly chokes.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Hazel responds, almost shocked. “Why the fuck would I ever do that?”

He knits his eyebrows.

“To have a real shot at something,” he tells her, like it’s obvious. “Isn’t that what you’d want?”

“ _No_. I couldn’t risk our friendship over some stupid crush that I’m not even sure is a crush. That’s just—no. Never. I would never.”

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, then. He supposes she has a valid point, knows how real the fear of rejection can be, knows even better the fear of fracturing a relationship with someone you love. But he also knows that taking that risk can pay off, that it can lead to something great. It had happened to him once before, and although it ended when his ex-girlfriend came out as a lesbian, he was grateful for the experience, and all that he’d learned from it. He was grateful for having the opportunity to love her, and how she had loved him back. Despite it all, he still believes that it was worth all the heartache in the moment, and he wants Hazel to have a shot at something like that, too; she deserves as much. Minus the ugly sad bits at the end, obviously.

“You’re thinking about Rachel, aren’t you?” she says, and he has never been more scared shitless of her ability to read his mind.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Kind of a similar situation, was it not?”

“She’s gay, Percy. She dumped you for a girl. Is that the happy ending you’d like for me?”

“Hazel—it’s not about how it ends. It’s what you learn about yourself in the process, it’s about giving and receiving love and knowing that the risk you took was worth it.”

“Ugh,” she groans. “Go stitch it into a throw pillow, I don’t want to hear it.”

He pinches her neck and she reaches back and elbows him in the thigh hard, far too close to his sensitivities for comfort.

“Fuck, dude, you nearly sterilized me,” he breathes, relieved, and she pretends to gag as he finally finishes her last braid.

“Disgusting _man_ ,” she nearly spits, and he whacks her on the forehead only for her to jump out of her chair and tackle him into the couch. 

They wrestle around for a minute until he has her pinned down, being a full foot taller than her, and she huffs and puffs angrily.

“No fair, you giant bastard,” she complains, and he grins.

“Sore loser.”

“Ugly bitch.”

“Short bitch.”

“Illiterate bitch.”

He gasps in offense and she cackles evilly, then tries and fails to use her short little legs to kick him in the back.

“Say you love me to the moon and back and that I give the best advice in the world and that you would take the knee and defend my honor,” he demands, and she blows a raspberry at him, her spit peppering his face. He feels his eye twitch of its own accord.

“Eat shit, colonizer.”

“Fuck that! My people are being colonized like, _right fucking now_.”

She purses her lips.

“Go scratch, crusty old man,” she adjusts, and he frowns.

“I’ll take it.”

She grins and he gets off of her, helps her up as he stands. She tries to go for his windpipe but he catches her wrist and knocks her back down onto the couch.

“Ugh, you’re supposed to be old and fragile by now, aren’t you?” she grumbles. “You’re turning 25, like, _tomorrow_. You might as well retire and buy a home in Florida.”

“Next week, actually, and fuck off you little gremlin. I’m so young and I’m going to live forever.”

She smiles widely.

“I sure hope so,” she says, jumping up.

He goes to defend himself but she just rolls her eyes and hugs him tightly. He sighs and wraps his arms around her as she squeezes him around the torso, and he leans down and kisses the top of her head. Her cornrows look fucking incredible if he does say so himself, especially with the gold threads and braid sleeves she’d asked him to add to really make it pop. She inhales heavily and mumbles about how much she loves him into his chest and he feels his heart clench and expand simultaneously. He is getting really fucking sick of it, of the contradictions, but more than that he’s sick of himself for feeling that way at all. It’s easier now, not to think about it, to go back on his earlier determination to learn to live this way, to heal—he’s just not in a place where he feels strong enough to do it anymore. 

So he’ll focus on protecting his best friend and braiding her hair and calling her names when the need arises, and he will do so quietly. He tells her that he loves her, too, squeezes her tightly, tries to show her right here and now exactly how he feels, because if he follows through and does what he needs to do the right way, she will never truly know just how much she means to him.

—

The day Percy turns 25 is honestly a bit of a blur. They find themselves in Calgary, which is not exactly the most random place Percy can think of, but it’s also not exactly at the top of his list of places where he would choose to celebrate. He’s not really a big fan of his birthday, anyway—he hates the fuss and the noise and the inevitability of his friends getting drunk. So far the day has brought two of those things: Hazel broke into the van that morning and used a confetti popper to wake him up, scaring him shitless, and Leo and Grover demonstrated how dangerous playing with fire can be when Leo nearly singed Grover’s eyebrows off with some of his ridiculous pyrotechnics. Piper had dragged Leo out of the lot by his ear and they had heard her yelling at him about his fire ban, which is still firmly in place, all the way from the van. 

Hazel, Grover, and Percy had exchanged wary looks, worried for both of their friends. Piper hadn’t been in the best of spirits ever since Jason stopped randomly popping in on shows around a month or two ago. It seems as though most of the band and crew were aware of this shift, and they have been extra kind and gentle with her lately—Percy thinks this has probably had the opposite of its intended effect, if Leo’s strangled screams meant anything. 

Now, as Percy sits outside of the venue, hidden behind the busses as the sky turns orange with the sunset, he finally has a moment of peace to himself, a moment to rest. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath and thinks about everything he has done since he dropped out of school five years ago, since he decided to go all-in on his photography career and leave everything else behind. The year and a half he spent building his portfolio was the best time of his life, he thinks. Or one of the best. If college hadn’t broken him down so badly academically he would’ve said those two years were the best—he’d met Piper, spent all of his time with his best friends, been closer to his mom than ever before.

Maybe that’s part of the reason why dropping out felt so wrong. Maybe it’s because he felt as though he wasn’t just giving up on school, but giving up the people he loved, too. His chest burns at the thought of it, and he knits his eyebrows and frowns. He’s already spoken to Hazel about it, to his mother. He doesn’t have to burn for it anymore. He can move on. He needs to _allow_ himself to move on. There is far too much other shit taking up space in his heart for him to hold onto something that happened so long ago, and as he sits and breathes, for the first time he finds it in him to really, truly let it go. The guilt is gone, at least. His mind wanders over thoughts of his career, though, and then—he can worry about that another time. 

He hears footsteps on the gravel behind him, feels someone sit down beside him, their leg pressed against his. He opens one eye and peeks to see Annabeth sitting next to him, looking just as peaceful as the moment feels, her face relaxed and calm and fucking glowing in the light of golden hour. She smiles at him softly and he notices there’s something wrapped in plain brown paper beside her, and he frowns.

“No,” he says immediately, and she knits her eyebrows.

“No, what?” she asks, and he nods to the package.

“No gifts. I won’t allow it.”

“Fuck off, it’s your birthday. You got me a gift on mine.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

He purses his lips and she straightens, holds her chin up in triumph.

“That’s what I thought, bitch,” she says, and he can’t help but smile. “Anyway, you’re not getting it yet. I didn’t come here to disturb your peace—you’ve had enough of that for today.”

He takes a deep breath and nods a bit, looks back out to the sun as it sets over the city. During the day it seemed as though Percy might explode, filled to the brim with an anxious energy that he couldn’t contain. Hazel was aware of how antsy and uncomfortable Percy was with all the attention, and so she suggested they go find a cute coffee shop or something to get away from it all. Leo and Grover both chose to tag along as well, and they’d headed out into the city in the van, drove around until Hazel found a place that didn’t look too fancy or like it was trying too hard or whatever other criteria she had. He trusted her—she knows her coffee, and despite the fact that Percy exclusively drinks tea or hot chocolate, her instincts are usually right. When they finally found a place, they’d ended up running into someone Percy knew from his Alaska trip, Frank Zhang. Percy had done his best to steady his breathing, to relax—he was safe, he would not be going back, and the evil piece of shit who ruined everything for him was far away, now. There was nothing to be afraid of.

When Frank had seen Percy a massive smile broke out onto his face and he’d grabbed Percy into a bone-crushing hug. Frank is 6 foot 5 and built like a truck, a friendly giant who doesn’t know his own strength. When Frank had released Percy and looked over his shoulder at Hazel, his face and jaw both dropped, and Percy frowned in confusion and looked to Hazel, who seemed just as shocked.

“Frank? Frank _Zhang?”_ she said, incredulous, and Frank smiled so widely Percy thought his face might split in half.

“Hazel Levesque,” he laughed, then looked over her shoulder. “And Grover! Holy crap! It’s a reunion.”

“Wait, you all know each other?” Percy asked as Frank hugged Hazel and Grover in turn.

“Frank went to camp with us for a few summers,” Grover explained. 

“Joined up late in the game,” Frank admitted. “They were all already best friends before I got there. I kind of…infiltrated.”

Hazel had rolled her eyes. “You were always welcome, Frank, you know we all loved you.”

His cheeks had gone a little pink at that and he’d smiled sheepishly before clearing his throat.

“How do you know Frank, Percy?” Grover asked, and Percy took a deep breath.

“Oh, um. He was a researcher on the team I was on. In—uh. This past winter,” Percy explained, doing his best to keep his breathing steady.

Hazel’s eyes widened a fraction in recognition and she put her hand on the small of Percy’s back, let him know that she was there for him. 

“I see,” she said. “Um, it was really good to see you, Frank. Good catch-up. We actually have to go now—”

“We just got here,” Leo had cut in, finally returning to the group after he’d wandered off to observe the complicated ass coffee machines behind the counter.

Frank jumped in surprise when Leo came up behind him, and Leo grinned at Percy in amusement. Percy was just trying his best not to lose his shit.

“Um, yeah, it was good to see you guys,” Frank responded, catching onto the shift in the air. He looked to Percy, then. “Percy, just—I’m going out to Ontario soon, we’re tracking leaf health as autumn approaches, and we could really use a photographer to come with us. It’s going to be really gorgeous—I think you’d really love it.” 

Percy’s eyebrows had shot up to his forehead in surprise, making him momentarily forget his anxiety.

“When’s soon?” he asked. 

“Few weeks? Leaves change quickly up here. If you’re around Ottawa at that time, I really do think you should come.”

“Will there be…any other photographers?”

Frank shook his head. “Independent research. I’m done with big magazines. It’ll just be you, if you’re up for it. If not, I guess we’ll have to use our phones or something.”

Percy felt personally offended at the mere thought of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say yes, not yet.

“I’ll let you know,” he told Frank, and Frank had smiled widely.

“You have my number. I’ll see you around, maybe.”

He’d left Percy and Grover with a clap on the shoulder each, sent Hazel a shy goodbye, and told Leo it was nice to meet him, even though he hadn’t technically spoken to him at all. Percy barely heard Hazel asking him if he was alright, if he wanted to leave or stay or do anything at all. His mind had left with Frank, sweet, considerate, intuitive Frank. The same Frank who had known the monster who had fucked up Percy’s time in Alaska, but never truly understood what had happened there. Percy knew his face was set in a frown and he knew he was staring at the door Frank had just left out of and he knew he was zoning out and probably worrying his friends, but he was so thrown off by what had happened that he couldn’t bring himself to snap out of it. 

And he had been in that same funk all day. He’s out of it a bit now, now that he has had his time to sit alone, now that Annabeth is here to take him out of his head. She exhales heavily and he realizes that he must have been doing it again, shakes his head and apologizes quietly. She just rolls her eyes and hands him the wrapped package. It is light and thin and feels like a softcover book, and he narrows his eyes, has his suspicions.

“What, are you going to zap it with your laser vision or something?” she asks him, and he purses his lips.

“It’s wrapped so nicely,” he says. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

She rolls her eyes and breaks a seam, then hands it back to him, and he can see the familiar yellow spine of the book peaking out. He grins widely and rips the rest open to find that she has gifted him his favorite Geronimo Stilton book, _It’s Halloween, You ’Fraidy Mouse_. He laughs, then, can’t contain himself, just absolutely loses his shit because—well, it’s ironic and it’s awful and it breaks his goddamned heart, doesn’t it? It fucking kills him, and all he can do is laugh and laugh and laugh, because there’s really nothing else to do. 

“What’s so funny?” she asks, half-worried, half-amused.

“I have _Cheddar Face_ in the van,” he tells her, wiping at his eyes. “I was gonna give it to you to replace that stupid fucking architecture book I got you for your birthday that you’d already read.”

She stares at him, her eyes wide and her face soft. He has never seen her more open than she is in this moment, and he has to look away, to fight off the sudden tightness in his throat.

“Great minds, huh?” she mutters quietly, and he nods, looking down at the book she got him, runs his fingers over the words on the front cover.

He’s not sure whether he should smile or cry—he’s leaning more towards cry, and what she says after makes everything about ten million times worse.

“I, um—it’s not just the book. I recorded it for you. I mean—I read it. I did an audiobook thing. So you could read along,” she explains, and he feels a sharp pain that starts in his stomach shoot throughout the rest of him. 

He cannot bring himself to look at her for the life of him.

“Did you do the voices?” he asks quietly, and she huffs out a breath.

“If you ever let anyone else listen to it I’ll fucking kill you,” she threatens, and he smiles despite the throbbing in his chest.

“I won’t,” he mutters. “Promise.”

“You have to pinky swear.”

He takes a deep breath, braces himself, and turns to her. She is offering him her right pinky, so he hooks his around hers and they kiss their fists. Their noses are mere inches from each other’s, their eyes locked together—grey on green. A thunderstorm raging in the countryside. Smooth stones scattered across a grassy field. Sea glass and gleaming scallop shells. Annabeth drops their hands down and they do not move an inch, green and grey and freckles so close he could count them. Then—a flash of gold. Gold and gold and gold and—Hazel. No part of him could ever do something like this to Hazel.

He pulls back and releases her pinky, stands up, brushing off his pants.

“We should head inside,” he says. “Stolls are probably going on soon.”

She exhales a heavy breath and stands as well, gathering up the papers they’d ripped. She crumples them together into a tight ball and offers Percy an even tighter smile, wishes him one more happy birthday. Before she can go he catches her elbow and she turns around, meets his eyes again. How the fuck is he supposed to ever find anything else beautiful again, after he’s looked so deeply into them? He doesn’t think he’ll be able to. 

“Thank you,” he tells her, earnest and firm and _trying_. “This was—I mean, really incredible. I really love it.”

She smiles widely at him, then, and her freckles stretch out across her cheeks and he wonders if he’ll ever get close enough to count them again before he can stop himself from thinking it. She pushes up onto her toes and plants a sweet kiss on his cheek and he wishes, for a moment, that he had never met her. His life would be much easier right now if that was the case. 

But then she pulls back and that smile is still on her face and he knows that that’s a load of bullshit—the thing he wants most in the world, more than anything, is to have known her sooner. All the time before her feels like it was wasted; his life could have been so much richer, and honestly, possibly more painful, too. It would be worth it, he thinks, if only she would smile at him that way every day.

—

There is something fundamentally wrong, Percy thinks, about warm weather in September. He knows rationally that autumn hasn’t truly begun yet, he is aware that September isn’t prime time for leaf crunching or pumpkin picking or any of the other activities that really make autumn _feel_ like autumn. But it should not be so hot that he cannot wear a jacket without sweating bullets as they near the middle of September. It feels antithetical to everything he knows about the end of summer and the start of fall beginning when school does, despite the fact that he hasn’t been in any school for five years. 

Maybe he’s just irritated about his run-in with Frank. He has been antsy and irritable and generally agitated ever since his birthday, hasn’t been able to make up his mind about whether he wants to go out and shoot the leaves with Frank or not. Part of him is too afraid to ever take a nature photo again—the other part is so desperate for the chance that he can almost feel it clawing its way out of his chest and up his throat, longing to be set free. He can’t reconcile his aching desire with all the things holding him back—and he knows this is not just limited to his job.

He is currently hiking in North Dakota with the band and crew, lamenting over the fact that the leaves haven’t changed yet. Grover had suggested earlier that Percy bring his camera, so it sits heavy around his neck, mocking him. He hasn’t found it in him to pick it up, yet. And so it hangs and bounces against his chest, right over his sternum, where the vice rests, tightening with every step he takes, with every brush of Annabeth’s arm against his, every chime of Hazel’s bell-like laugh ringing through the air. 

Suddenly they hear a snap as Piper curses out, and Percy turns to watch as Jason rushes forward to catch her. She shakes him off, steadies herself, and walks forward to join Percy, Grover, and Annabeth at the front of the group. Jason’s deep-set frown and Thalia’s pat on her brother's back take up his attention for a moment before he returns his eyes to Piper, holds her arm as he looks her over.

“Okay?” he asks, concerned, and she nods, rolls around her ankle.

“Fine,” she responds. “Just stumbled. Stupid fucking blonde dummy.” 

Percy narrows his eyes a bit, purses his lips. 

“Not a good time to ask why the other Grace is here, then?”

She glares back at Jason for a moment and then turns forward, and they continue their hike. She was in a particularly bad mood this morning—Percy suspects it has something to do with the fact that Jason had shown up unannounced, back with the band for the first time since Mexico City. Jason says he wants to support his sister, that he misses her; Percy calls bullshit. It’s obvious that the two of them have been downright miserable without each other, if Piper’s sour mood and Jason’s dark circles mean anything. Percy just holds onto Piper’s hand, squeezes it once, twice, three times, holds. She returns the gesture, and he tries to lighten the mood—focusing on Piper will help him get out of his own funk, at least.

“Who do we think would die in the wilderness first?” he asks the general group as Hazel comes up behind him and wraps her arms around him, and Piper snorts. Percy interlocks his fingers with Hazel's.

“Leo,” Annabeth says immediately, and Leo calls out in protest.

“I’m a fucking genius. I would make the wilderness my bitch. Need a lean-to? I’m your man. A fire? I happen to be skilled in the art of blowing shit up. I would _thrive_ out here. If anyone couldn’t last, it would be you, Ms. If-I-don’t-touch-my-drums-today-I’ll-die.”

“Bullshit!” Annabeth exclaims. “I grew up in the country. I ran away from home not once, not twice, but _thrice_.”

“Ugh,” Clarisse groans at Annabeth’s word choice, but she ignores her.

“I have survival skills. I could do it. I say Piper.”

“Fuck you, Chase, you know that’s a load of BS. I spent my childhood in Okla-fucking-homa. I’m Cherokee, literally indigenous to this land. I know my shit,” Piper defends. “I think the Stolls would do really well.”

“Thank you!” they chorus out in unison.

“I’d trap so many fuckin’ bears, dude,” Connor says, and Percy grins. 

“Why would you want to trap a bear?” Travis asks. “We need to find food, not enemies.”

“You trap it and kill it and eat it.”

“You’re going to eat a fucking _bear_? Fuck off, you’d die first.”

“Fuck you, I’ll kill you and eat you, then.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I think Percy would die out here,” Hazel says, and he gasps in offense, removes her arms from around him.

“Bitch,” he breathes out, making her walk forward in front of him as they approach a narrow path. “The fuck?”

“You love your mom too much. You’d die of a broken heart.”

He purses his lips. “Can’t really argue that, actually,” he mutters, defeated, and she grins back at him triumphantly.

He follows her along the path, holding onto the back of her shirt, and Piper does the same to him from behind him. They are nearly at the end when Annabeth curses and they hear the gravel shift and they turn around to find Thalia reaching out and grabbing onto Annabeth to keep her from falling off the edge as she hits the ground, bumping her head. 

“Ugh,” Annabeth moans. “Of fucking course I would trip on the edge of a goddamn cliff.”

“Maybe you _would_ be the first to die out here,” Piper remarks as Annabeth stands up carefully, and Annabeth flips her off.

“Fuck you, McLean.”

“Shut up, both of you, I have to check her for a concussion,” Thalia says. “Let’s get off this path first. Steady, Chase?”

Annabeth nods and they make it off the path and into a clearing, surrounded by tall trees that only allow small pockets of sunlight through the gaps. It is beautiful, green and gold, and as Hazel squeezes Percy’s hand then moves forward to check on Annabeth, he keeps his feet planted where they are. Once Thalia determines that Annabeth is safe and they can all move on, Piper speaks up.

“Should’ve let her pass out, that way we won’t have to deal with her,” Piper remarks, and Annabeth flips her off. 

“You know there was a time when you used to adore me,” Annabeth says. “Enough to date me.”

Percy raises his eyebrows and looks to Piper for confirmation, and she rolls her eyes as everyone moves through the clearing to continue on their trail.

“Well, there’s a reason that relationship only lasted two weeks,” Piper responds, but she is smiling and Annabeth laughs.

Percy notices that Hazel has gone quiet and he wraps his arm around her shoulders from behind, kisses the top of her head. She seems to be quite focused on the path before them, despite the fact that the ground is even and smooth and the trail at this point is incredibly easy. He knits his eyebrows but his curiosity overtakes him.

“I didn’t know you guys dated,” he says and looks back to see Annabeth roll her eyes.

“Dated is honestly really generous,” she tells him. “Piper just hit on me nonstop until I agreed to get coffee with her and then we became best friends and we confused our platonic feelings for romantic ones.”

“She’s right,” Piper sighs. “I mean it’s high school, and she’s the new girl with, like, the world’s longest legs. You’re telling me I’m _not_ supposed to hit on her? As if.”

Percy laughs a bit and Annabeth grins and Hazel finally comes back to the conversation, smiling a tiny thing that doesn’t reach her eyes as she leans her head back against Percy’s shoulder. He cranes his neck to meet her gaze, tries to send her telepathic support, but she just forces the smile a little wider and bops him on the nose.

“I know you’re still secretly in love with me, McLean,” Annabeth teases, and Piper snorts.

“After knowing you as a person? Absolutely not.” She pauses, then. “But I would still jump your bones,” Piper says, and Percy grins as Annabeth laughs.

“Right back at ya, babe,” Annabeth responds.

It is then that Jason Grace, with the world’s worst timing, decides to step forward and speak to Piper. He seems to be trying in earnest to get her to look at him, but Piper pointedly ignores him, and Percy almost feels bad for Jason. He and Percy have never been particularly close, at least not as close as Percy’s other friends, but Jason holds a special place in his heart, and he doesn’t want to watch him suffer any more than he would Hazel.

“Piper…can you please just hear me out?” Jason says as Percy moves to fall back a bit and give them their space.

Piper catches Percy's hand, keeps him there with her, tugs him forward between her and Jason. Percy sees her red-rimmed eyes, then, and any sympathy he may have for Jason dissipates as he directs all of his attention to his best friend.

“Yo, Grace, take a hike,” Percy says, stepping in, and Jason knits his eyebrows and stills in his place. Percy pauses and does the same. “Literally.”

“Percy, this is really none of your business,” he tells him in a clipped tone, and Percy raises one eyebrow.

“It looks like it’s none of _your_ business—Piper’s just trying to enjoy the scenery. Fuck off for a minute, would you?”

Jason’s jaw clenches and Percy watches as he tenses up. They’ve never had any real reason to butt heads before, but Percy is willing to deal with a little confrontation if it means Piper will be okay. He stands his ground, and Jason looks to Piper, whose head is still down, then huffs out a frustrated breath and stalks off towards the group, shoving past Percy. Piper sniffles and wipes at her face and Percy pulls her into his side and kisses the top of her head.

“Wanna talk about it?” he mutters, and she shakes her head. “Wanna fall back so you can cry in peace?”

She nods, so they set a slower pace, falling behind the group. Percy holds Piper’s hand and helps her wipe away her tears, and they walk slowly in silence together, just breathing. He wishes he could say something of substance, anything to help her out, but nothing seems good enough. What could even be said in a situation like this? _Sorry the man you love is an absolute dickhole who went out with your sister five years ago and that you were hooking up until I accidentally caught you and now you’re miserable_. It was admittedly not the simplest situation, the feelings muddled and confused and probably unknown even to Piper herself.

“Sorry,” she mumbles eventually, taking back her hand from Percy to wipe away the last of her tears. “I just—it was a lot. Him being here is a lot.”

Percy nods.

“Don’t apologize, Pipes, it’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset,” he tells her, and she nods, looking down at the ground before them. “What’d he say to you? Should I go break his kneecaps?”

She laughs a bit, then, looks up to meet Percy’s eyes. They are still glistening, a bit bloodshot, darker than he’s ever seen them. He thinks he might be able to drown in them, in the warmth and the comfort of Piper’s giant eyes. He looks at her and he sees home once more, and he wants more than ever to be a home for her, too.

“He didn’t really say anything just now, it was this morning really. He said—he said that—” She bites her lip and puts her face in her hands, takes a shuddering breath. Percy squeezes her shoulder and tells her to take her time and she exhales heavily. “He said he’s in love with me. And that he has been forever. And that the only reason he said yes to Drew was that I kept saying no, and he thought he’d never have a chance with me. And that if he could go back in time he would never have given up on me and that he’ll never give up on me even now.”

Percy feels his eyes bulge out and she peeks up at him from between her fingers.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and she nods sadly.

“Holy shit,” she agrees, her voice small. 

“Did that…I mean, does that change anything for you? At all?”

Her lower lip trembles and he regrets asking it, tucks her tear-dampened hair behind her ear and rubs her arms soothingly. 

“Never mind,” he mutters. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“No, I do,” she says, and takes a breath. “I don’t know, honestly. I’d like it to. It’s just…I meant what I said last time. I don’t think I’ll ever not feel like a second choice to him.”

“Even though you were his first choice all along?”

She knits her eyebrows and her face hardens.

“How could I possibly have been his first choice when he chose Drew before me?”

“But he didn’t, Pipes. He asked you, first. He was always yours.”

She purses her lips, then, looks down at her hands. 

“I was scared,” she mumbles. “He was like Mr. Perfect, the boy next door, blonde Superman. What the fuck could he have possibly seen in me, you know? I thought—I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought. But I was fucking terrified. And now I’m here and I feel like shit and he’s a pushy son of a bitch but he feels like shit, too, and I can’t help but feel responsible for that. It would be wrong of me to do anything about it now, wouldn't it?”

Percy gapes at her, and she frowns at him.

“What?” she asks defensively, stopping them in their place.

He decides they have reached the point in their conversation when he knows better than to be gentle with her. She needs real honesty right now, not some sugar-coated bullshit.

“Sorry, I just—what the fuck? Piper, you are not responsible for anyone else’s emotions, first of all. I know you think you hurt him and yeah, maybe you did, but he hurt you, too. It’s too late to change the past, so your guilt means absolutely fucking nothing if you don’t actively try to _fix_ the harm you caused. Both of you. If you think getting together with Jason is wrong because you made a mistake even though he is actively telling you that he wants to be with you—I just, I can’t even rationalize that in my head. Can you?”

She knits her eyebrows and frowns.

“It made more sense before I said it out loud,” she mumbles grumpily. “My head is kind of a shitshow, like, 99% of the time.”

He grins widely, then.

“Mine, too, kid.”

“Believe me, I know,” she says, and he rolls his eyes and shoves her shoulder as she smiles a bit. She stops, then, and bites her lip.

“I’m still scared, Perce,” she mutters quietly. “I don’t—what do I do?”

He knits his eyebrows and kisses her hand.

“I can’t tell you that,” he says, resting his chin on her shoulder. “But I do know that every time I let my fear dictate what I did, I ended up fucking miserable.”

She pouts and he raises his eyebrows sympathetically.

“Guess I gotta go murder Jason Grace, then,” she grumbles, and he laughs as he stands up straight.

“Good thing you’ve got lots of cliffs to choose from.”

She grins.

“No. If I’m killing him it will be by my own hand. No falling to his death, we murder like we mean it.”

“I’ll help you hide the body when it’s done, then,” he says, and she smiles a bit.

“I know you will,” she says warmly, squeezing his hand. She pauses, then. “Maybe I’ll let you chop him up or something.”

Percy laughs as he pulls her into his chest tightly. She sighs and hugs him firmly, squeezes him around his middle, and he sighs into the pressure, welcomes it. When she pulls back she squeezes his cheeks in her hands and then slaps them once, and he jabs her ribs with his pointer fingers. She squirms out of his grasp and sprints forward towards the group, so he takes it as an opportunity to race her again. She must hear him coming behind her and she looks back over her shoulder, but the issue there is that she can’t see in front of her.

“Piper—look out!” Percy yells, and her face morphs into confusion as she turns forward and immediately slams into Jason’s back. 

Piper falls back on her ass and Jason is thrown forward into Reyna, and everyone nearly topples over like a row of dominoes. It’s a little bit hilarious, and Percy is eternally grateful that it happened when they were far away from any precarious cliff edges. Once Jason gathers himself he offers to help Piper up, and Percy can see the glare on her face from where he jogs forward. But then it softens, and she takes Jason's hands with a quiet thank you, and Percy walks a little faster to catch up to Hazel and Grover at the front of the group.

They come upon a ridge, then, and Hazel gasps out—below them there is a valley full of lush greenery, a small lake glistening in the afternoon sun. She turns to Percy, asks him to get a picture, and he knits his eyebrows and bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Take one of us with it,” Grover suggests, and Percy nearly cries out of gratitude. 

The entire band and most of the crew gather in front of the ridge, so many of them that the shorter people have to kneel in front. Travis and Connor Stoll won’t stop pretending to throw each other off the edge of the cliff and everyone who is meant to be posing is moving around as well. Percy smiles at the sight of them, snaps a few candids—he can take pictures of his friends. He can do this, because it’s about them. There just happens to be a fucking breathtaking view behind them all. A view that is gorgeous enough for Percy’s hands to itch to aim his camera at it, for his throat to call out for them to get the fuck out of his shot, for his toes to curl in anticipation of moving around and getting new angles. God, he wants to do it so fucking badly he thinks he might explode. But every time he even thinks of it, any time he lifts his eye to the viewfinder, all he can see is the face of the man who let Percy know exactly what he is worth, exactly how fucking awful he truly is. 

So he guides his hands to point his camera at his friends, uses his voice to tell them all to stop moving around and smile, plants his feet firmly on the ground beneath him. He takes a deep breath, gets a bunch of shots of them, smiles at the sight of Hazel nearly falling over from where she is crouched down, at the fact that Silena is cozied up quite nicely against Clarisse’s side. The people he loves, all gathered around in the midst of all the things Percy yearns for and cannot bear to be around. Fucking contradictions.

Before they move on from the spot Hazel insists that Percy get in the photo with them, so he and Clarisse manage to move a stack of rocks and sticks for the camera to rest upon and he sets up the 10-second timer, makes a mad dash for the group with Clarisse. He dives onto the ground before the group, lies on his side in front of his shorter friends—Hazel, Piper, Leo, Grover, Phoebe—and the camera goes off once, twice, three times. 

Once it’s done, they stand and Percy moves to retrieve his camera. Grover walks over with him as the group moves on, energized by the view before them. As Percy looks through the photos, smiling at the sight of his friends, Grover speaks up.

“Hey, Perce?” he says, and Percy looks up at his best friend. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Percy swallows, knits his eyebrows, turns his eyes back to his camera screen.

“About what?” he asks, feigning ignorance, and Grover sighs.

“The fact that you can’t bring yourself to do the thing you love anymore, maybe?” Grover suggests, and Percy stills. 

“I don’t—” He swallows. “I can’t right now. Not here.”

He looks up to see a look of sympathy on his best friend’s face, and Grover nods and pushes the hair back from Percy’s forehead. _I love you and I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere._ Percy feels his jaw start to tremble so he clenches his teeth together tightly, and Grover squeezes his forearm gently.

“Okay,” he says. “Take your time. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready. Yeah?”

Percy nods and they move to catch up with their friends. He doesn’t really want to put the camera back around his neck, can’t manage it, so he holds it in his hands instead. It’s not really much better, honestly—he thinks he might explode from all the frustration he feels just looking at it. But then Grover removes it from Percy’s hands, carries it around his own neck, shares the burden. 

Percy doesn’t really have the words to express the gratitude he feels within him in that moment—like a fire burning in the pit of his belly, warm and gentle and home. Like gathering around a hearth with all the people he loves, letting it fill him up until he thinks he might burst. It’s a welcome change from the usual emptiness, the light of it challenging the darkness that usually occupies the space, lying in wait for the moment it might consume him. Percy can’t stop himself from kissing Grover’s head and wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulders, needs to do something, anything, to let him know how much he has helped with just one small act.

As Grover wraps his arm around Percy’s middle and squeezes him back, Percy is certain his best friend must know exactly what it means. Grover has offered him love and light and home. A moment of peace. A moment to rest. A moment that can only ever be given after the knowledge that you have been understood. He is known, and for now, that makes all the difference.


	9. i will be here when the weather changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are quite a few things to warn for a particular section of this chapter, please forgive me, it is quite heavy:  
> *Trigger Warning*: hostile work environment/harassment, emotional/psychological abuse, claustrophobia, mentions of past domestic abuse—I wasn't exactly how to tag one bit so I used claustrophobia, but there is a brief (and detailed) description of someone panicking while being locked in a room. Please heed that warning if you think it may trigger you in any way.  
> -The things listed above are all found in the very first section of the chapter (which is quite long) but right when the chapter starts I'll still put the little *** — *** to let you know it's there  
> -As always, I will recap significant plot points in the next update, so please don't feel like you have to read if any of that may be potentially triggering to you, and take care of yourselves first and foremost  
> -Chapter deals with feelings of worthlessness, self-doubt  
> -I promise there is sufficient joy/sweet things in this chapter aside from the heavy stuff, I'm so sorry, please consider the 5,000 words of Percabeth as my apology  
> -Chapter title from the song Pulling Leaves Off Trees by Wallows
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

_September/October:_

*** — ***

It happens on a Tuesday.

Percy isn’t quite sure what he expected telling his friends about Alaska would be like, how he expected to get to the point he is at right now, thanks to Grover’s encouragement. Maybe he thought it would take a full-blown breakdown, or something inside him clicking and unlocking all the bullshit trapped inside, anything at all. But he is editing the photos from Clarisse’s profile shoot in Winnipeg, which had actually been really enjoyable once he got her to loosen up a bit, while Hazel is splayed out on the couch of the greenroom where he works.

“Remember when we ran into Frank?” she asks Percy, and he knits his eyebrows.

“Uh. Yeah,” he responds, deciding that Clarisse is actually incredibly photogenic as he adjusts the contrast on one of her portraits. “Why?”

Hazel rolls over onto her stomach and rests her chin in her hands, looking at Percy where he sits at a small table in the corner of the room.

“Well,” she begins, and he glances at her nervously, “he didn’t really ask how we knew each other or why we were together.”

He feels relief crash over him in a wave and he realizes how tense his shoulders were as he rolls them out.

“Oh, yeah,” Percy says. “I guess—we didn’t really give him much of a chance, did we?”

“That’s what I thought,” she begins, “but then I saw him at the show that night.”

Percy gapes at her.

“ _What_?” he asks in shock, and she nods vigorously, sitting up and tucking her legs beneath her.

“Percy, he was there. Why didn’t he say something about it? Why didn’t he tell us?”

Percy knits his eyebrows, frowning.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe he was embarrassed or something.”

“What does he have to be embarrassed about?”

Percy shrugs and Hazel purses her lips.

“He follows the band on Instagram,” she informs him. “Not just us as individuals, the whole band. I checked.”

He raises his eyebrows, then.

“What makes you so interested in Frank all of the sudden?” he asks, and she straightens.

“Nothing. I don’t know. I just—running into him was so surreal. And—we were really good friends, you know? It was just one of those things where you drift apart and…I don’t know. I feel a little guilty. He was always so sweet.”

“What do you have to feel guilty for, Hazy?”

She shrugs again. 

“I dunno. Maybe I should have tried harder to make him feel included. I always hated being on the outside, I should have done more.”

Percy knits his eyebrows, then. 

“Hazel, you can’t fault yourself for something that happened when you were a kid. A busy one at that. I’m sure you did more than you’re giving yourself credit for. He wouldn’t have been so happy to see you otherwise.”

She purses her lips. “You think he was happy to see me?”

Percy raises one eyebrow, then, and she furrows hers together and falls backward onto the couch.

“Anyway, whatever,” she says, and he knows it is the exact opposite of _whatever_. “Just thought it was interesting.”

“Hazel Citrine Levesque is _Frank Zhang_ the boy you told me about who you kissed at camp when you were both 16?” Percy asks straight-up, and she freezes.

“What if he is?” she says carefully.

Percy smiles a bit, bites the inside of his cheek. He is prepared to tease her until she tries to strangle him, and he is gearing up to start in on her when his phone vibrates on the table and he looks to see none other than Frank’s name appear on the screen.

“Hazel your boyfriend just texted me,” Percy says, a tiny bit afraid, and she gasps and sits up.

“Psychic! I told you I am motherfucking _psychic,_ bitch!” she exclaims, and Percy struggles to maintain his composure.

There can really be any number of rational explanations as to why Frank happened to text at the same moment they had been having a conversation about him. For one thing, Frank had told Percy he would be in contact, and they’d just seen him recently, so of course he would be on Hazel’s mind. For another, Hazel was obviously thinking about him much more than she was letting on, and the time for the leaf-peeping trip was approaching. But Hazel had convinced him of things much crazier than magic and psychics and sixth senses, so part of him was scared absolutely shitless.

Percy opens the text with shaky hands, finds that Frank has given him a date for when they’ll be heading out. Apparently he is at the northernmost part of the wildlife reserve currently, and they will be making their way down so that by the last week of October they will find themselves right above Ottawa. Percy aches to be there that very moment as a truly terrible photo of an absolutely gorgeous forest comes through following Frank’s update, and he exhales heavily through his nose, resigns himself to the fact that he will never be able to do what he truly loves again unless he unpacks the thing that took his drive away in the first place. He looks up at Hazel, who is staring at him expectantly, and sighs heavily, feels his stomach twist.

“I think—Hazel, I think I need to talk to you about it, now,” he says quietly, and her eyes widen a fraction.

She nods quickly.

“Yeah, of course, okay. Okay. Um. Here? You want somewhere more private—”

And it is at that exact moment that Annabeth and Reyna come bursting through the greenroom door, shoving each other aside and then both bolting for and throwing themselves onto the couch.

“I won!” they both exclaim in unison, and Hazel looks exasperated as they trap her beneath their long legs. 

“Fuck you, Chase, I got here first,” Reyna says, and Percy notices they are both soaked in sweat in their workout gear.

“Eat shit, Arellano, you know for a _fact_ that it was all me,” Annabeth argues, and Hazel looks back and forth between them as they continue to yell at each other until she finally snaps.

“Shut the fuck up!” she shouts, and they both quiet. She takes a deep breath and looks at Percy. “A walk? A van? A toilet?”

He smiles a bit.

“A walk sounds nice,” he says, and she nods and elbows both Reyna and Annabeth in the legs so they will free her from their hold, and they both wince and recoil simultaneously.

“I like walks,” Annabeth chirps, and Hazel frowns at her.

“You’re not invited.” Before Reyna can cut in, she silences her with a glare. “You either. I’m sick of the both of you.”

“Uncalled for,” Reyna mutters and Percy almost laughs as Hazel sticks her tongue out at them and leads him out the door. 

As they head out into the hall, Percy does his best not to think about how tightly the knots in his stomach are wound. Piper appears with Leo as they reach the back doors of the venue and she must sense that something is off because she quite literally throws her clipboard at Leo and joins Hazel and Percy on their stroll, not a word exchanged between any of them. He wonders how she does it, how she just _knows_ exactly what is going on, thinks back to Hazel being psychic and magic and sixth senses and realizes that it is none of those things. It is the intuition that comes from knowing the person you love so deeply that the slightest shift in their smile, a change in their tone, a hesitation in their gait tips you off to the fact that something is wrong. They know because they love him. They have always known.

When they step outside into the cold afternoon air he feels what little resolve he had earlier start to fade as it’s replaced by fear and shame and shame and shame and shame. The vice in his chest squeezes his heart so tightly he thinks he might collapse, but Piper squeezes his hand even tighter and pulls him close to her side and they remind him with their smiles and their hands and their presence alone that they love him. They love him. But their love cannot erase the shame that still wells up in his chest until it is all that Percy can feel.

It is that same shame that makes him look down at his hands as they sit together on a bench at a little park across from the venue, just the three of them. He can’t bring himself to meet their eyes just yet, and they don’t force him to, and he doesn’t think he could ever describe to them how grateful he is for their understanding in the moments that he prepares himself to talk about Alaska, to expose his shame and his failures and his darkness, the one that belongs to him and him alone. He clings to that gratitude like a goddamn lifeline, uses it to start talking.

“Do you guys remember, uh…when I first—the first real gig I ever got?” he begins. “It was like, some conservationist blog or whatever and they had me go out to San Diego and follow along with a pair of blue whales.” 

He glances up at them and they both nod, Hazel smiling a bit.

“You called me that first night,” she says. “You were so happy. You were like, screaming about how cool it was.”

He smiles a bit, too, remembering how excited he had been. They had waited on the water for six hours, their hopes of catching anything falling as time passed. But then in the late afternoon they got their first glimpse of movement, and everyone on the boat absolutely lost their minds as the calf breached (which hardly ever happens with whales so large). It was that moment that made Percy believe all the sacrifices he’d made, all the work he’d put in for so long, was worth it. And it stayed with him even through his doubts and insecurities over the years, kept him going no matter what.

“Yeah, I really was,” he says, half-smiling, and he looks back down at his hands, knits his eyebrows. “I haven’t felt that way about my job since last December.”

Piper and Hazel quiet, then, and Piper reaches out and squeezes one of his hands while Hazel takes the other. 

“What changed, Perce?” Piper asks, and he takes a deep breath.

“Alaska fucking happened,” he says bitterly, scowling down at his lap. “I guess—not the place, really. Although I can’t—it’s hard for me to separate the two now. Because it’s just all really shitty and makes me feel, um—like shit.” 

He winces, suddenly lost for words, and Hazel shifts a bit closer to him. The sun is shining far too brightly for the way he feels. He wishes it were cloudy or stormy so he could bury his shame in the darkness for a while longer, hide it behind a sheet of rain and drown it out with the clap of thunder. But the sky is clear and blue and there is nothing left that stands between Percy and the truth, so he takes a deep breath and begins.

“It was fine at first,” he starts. “Really, the team was great, and we had this guy—literally so fucking incredible, one of the best nature photographers like, _alive_. The entire photography world uses his work as the gold standard, you know? And I was so excited, but also really nervous, because the photography team was _his_ , you know, but it was just me and him. I just really, really wanted to impress him, like—I can’t describe to you how badly I needed this man’s validation.” He inhales heavily through his nose. 

“He was so fucking ruthless. At first it was little things, like never giving me any feedback and treating me like his assistant. Like, I was getting him coffee and running his errands. I never had the chance to do any real work, even in editing—he wouldn’t allow me to take my own pictures. And it was really fucking confusing because he wasn’t that way with the researchers or anyone else. He was charming and kind and encouraging, and I couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong. I felt like I was going crazy, for months. I still—I can’t reconcile in my head how easily he switched from being Mr. Rogers to fucking...Mr. Hyde.” 

Percy pauses, his mind flooding with the image of a slammed door, the feeling of scalding coffee burning his face and neck. New scars beneath his chin, to keep the old ones company. A man, older and pale and hunched over. Cold blue eyes, a bald spot in just the right place, calloused hands. The stench of cigars and coffee and the sound of poker chips clattering on a table. A shutter going off at the wrong speed, violent words that cut through his skin like a dagger. The same heavy gait. The same harsh indifference that turned into blind rage in the blink of an eye. 

“Everything he did reminded me so much of that fucking—ugly piece of shit.”

He shuts his eyes and takes his hands back from his friends and waits for them to process his words, covering his face with his hands. He feels that familiar sleaziness all over him, slick and heavy on his skin, suddenly feels the need to take a shower, to scrub himself clean of it. 

“It was just one thing on top of another, I guess. The memories. Then him treating me like shit. I felt like a kid again, trapped at home with—and it fucking sucked. He was an asshole, and he wasn’t even giving me the chance to prove myself. I hated him for a while. But I still needed him to validate me in any way possible, so I put up with it. And one day he…” 

He takes a deep breath. He remembers it, the first time it ever happened. The sound of a lock clinking loudly against the heaviness of silence, Percy trapped inside, blind in the darkness save for a red light over a work station. Hands slamming against the doors and walls in a panic, heaving and hyperventilating and screaming his throat raw and—no. He will not be talking about that today.

“One day he finally said he wanted to see my work. That we’d go over it once we got back from the shoot. We only had six hours to find this really elusive sheep. And I finally got the chance to prove myself, you know?” 

He looks between them, begs them to understand with his eyes. 

“Like, I had this one shot to really do something amazing and I _needed_ it, more than anything. I spent the entire day busting my ass, climbing mountains, whatever I had to do. And I found it. I found that motherfucker and holy shit, guys.” He smiles a bit, remembering it. “It was incredible. It was massive and pure white and its horns were curled twice, so perfectly. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It was fucking gorgeous. And I had found it. I did that, you know? I put in so much fucking work and I cut my hands and knees open just trying to trail it and follow it and it was so worth it in those moments. I didn’t care about anything else. And I got this one shot—”

He swallows, remembering it, remembering how much he put into that day, can picture in his head the exact image, because it was fucking incredible. A Dall sheep standing on the rocky edge of a mountain, looking out over the valley, right at Percy, as the sun set behind it. It was a moment he couldn’t forget even if he tried, and he feels his throat tighten and his vision go blurry and he shuts his eyes because he wants to hold it in his memory for a little bit longer. It’s all he has left of it, now.

“I thought I’d done the best work of my life. I couldn’t wait to show him, you know? I always—I mean, I don’t usually think anything I do is worth bragging about. But I wanted to show it off, because it fucking ruled. I thought it did, at least.” He inhales heavily, opens his eyes and looks at them. “When we got back that night I was in my cabin and he came by. I was ready with all my shots laid out on my laptop, had my negatives from the film camera I used prepared. And he just…he wasn’t interested in it. He told me—” He swallows hard, then. “He started yelling. Like, really yelling, screaming about how I had begged and begged for a chance and that was all I had to show for it. He said it was the worst work he’d seen in years. He went on and on about my composition and how poorly it was edited and—” 

His voice cracks, then. 

“He took away my equipment. Everything. My cameras, my laptop, all of it. He said I didn’t deserve the right to keep it all, if I was going to do such shitty work. He told me I’d wasted an opportunity for the team to get real photos, that I’d been selfish keeping it to myself, that I wasn’t even close to being good enough to have the privilege of seeing something like that. And then—he—he took all my negatives. He dragged a big drum outside and—he—he burned it all. He burned everything I’d worked so hard on. It was like—God, something in me broke.”

He looks up at them, the tears fully streaming down his face now, desperate for them to understand. Years of a quiet, evil stirring in his chest had finally come to a head in that awful fucking place, had finally overtaken him, and he still has no idea who he was before it all came spilling out.

“I don’t—I can’t tell you how much of myself I lost up there,” he says, fighting back the sob that’s building in his chest. “I just fucking hated myself so much. Nothing I did was good enough, or right. I was just some fucking—invalid, to him. He fucking tortured me and now every time I pick up my camera I—” 

He gasps and wipes at his face, can’t bring himself to continue, and Hazel rubs his knee soothingly.

“Piece of shit,” Piper practically growls, and all Percy can think is yes, he is a piece of shit. 

He’s a piece of shit for all that he’s done, an absolute fucking atrocity, and he feels sick to his stomach thinking about it. Percy is the worst, weakest, sorriest excuse for a person, a photographer, and he deserves everything they have to say to him. He buries his face in his hands and prepares himself for what he thinks is inevitably bound to follow.

“That man is a fucking asshole, and he harassed you and emotionally abused you and I am going to fucking kill him,” Piper continues, and Percy knits his eyebrows in confusion and looks up at her, finds that her eyes are full of tears. “Percy, I—I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry is just…it doesn’t even begin to…”

She trails off and throws her arms around his neck, hugs him to her closely. He is still in shock, still trying to process exactly what’s happening here.

“Wait—he—you’re sorry?” he asks, confused. 

She pulls back and looks him over, wipes at his cheeks.

“Of course,” she responds. “Percy, you were psychologically abused, by an absolute fucking demon. You had to deal with another fucking…a _Gabe_.” She shakes her head and places a hand on his cheek. “And you had to do it all alone,” she croaks. “You went through all of that for so long and—we never even knew. I’m so sorry.”

It feels like she’s apologizing for more than just Alaska, and Percy knows that Piper has always been aware of far less than Hazel. None of that is her fault, though, and he looks to Hazel, knitting his eyebrows, and finds that tears are running down her face as well.

“You mean…I—it was my fault,” he says, and they gape at him. “It was all my fault. I did terrible work, I wasn’t good enough. He just…he made that clear to me. He showed me the truth. Maybe I was just too invested because of everything I’d given up, you know? To think I could ever compare. If I’d done better, it wouldn’t be a problem. It was my fault.”

Hazel’s face hardens, then, and she holds his face firmly.

“Percy, none of that was your fault, do you understand me?” she says. “How the fuck—do you hear yourself?”

She looks at Piper desperately, and he can see that her face is just as set in determination as Hazel’s was earlier.

“Percy, listen to us,” Piper begins, her tone far too even for his liking. “That man…both of those men were absolute pieces of shit. They are pieces of shit. Full stop. There is no way you could have acted that would make them not be huge pieces of shit. You are not responsible for anyone else’s actions, okay? You did not force them to treat you the way they did, or to punish you, or to make you feel the way you do now. Nothing you did could have changed the way they acted. People like that…they prey on anyone they see who has less power than them. That’s what it’s about—it’s about power and control. And they abused the power they had over you—they abused _you._ That is not your fault, do you understand me? You could never be responsible for that.”

He swallows hard, knits his eyebrows as the weight of the nothingness in his stomach suddenly becomes much heavier. Rationally, he knows this. Rationally, everything Piper is saying makes perfect sense. But the vice in his chest and the emptiness in his belly are not based in reason. They are made of everything that opposes that rationality, they defy the laws of logic. Percy knows this, and Piper must, too, because she frowns and gives up on words and just pulls him tightly to her chest instead. He sighs into the hug, buries his face in her shoulder. 

There’s a little bit of relief in the fact that he has finally said what he needed to, has finally faced it. It’s certainly not all that happened and it’s certainly not everything that went wrong, but it’s as far as he has ever gotten, and it didn’t kill him. He is still here, his friends are still here, and that is good enough for the time being. 

“You know he was wrong, don’t you Percy?” Hazel asks quietly, and he freezes. “You know that you are incredibly talented and you have been working at and perfecting what you do for years and that he was just an angry old asshole who flexed his power over you instead of being honest with you.”

He bites the inside of his cheek and Piper releases him, holds him by the shoulders as she looks over his face. He can’t bear to look into her eyes so he looks past her shoulder at a bird bouncing around on a tree branch, and she exhales heavily. He thinks his chest might explode from how much pressure is building there.

“That’s why you’ve been having trouble, isn’t it?” she mutters, and he nods a bit, eyes still focused on that bird. 

He wonders what it might look like in flight.  Hazel sighs and rests her chin on Percy's shoulder and squeezes his forearm tightly.

“Percy Jackson, you are one of the most incredible photographers I have ever seen,” she says, as firm and steady as her grip on his arm. “If you weren’t incredible, you wouldn’t have gotten all the jobs you did, you wouldn’t have been a regular at one of the biggest wildlife publications in the fucking _world._ You are more than good enough, Percy—you’re fucking phenomenal. And that walking piece of trash somehow put it in your head that you aren’t, but we’re telling you that you are. You are."

He inhales heavily and squeezes her hand over his arm, tries to force her words through his thick skull so that he can process them, start to believe them. He doesn’t know if he ever will—after being constantly reminded that he was a fuck-up, a burden to those around him, a waste of space, he cannot flip a switch and start to think the opposite. It wasn’t as if Percy’s mentor had to try very hard to get him to believe it; the groundwork had been laid years earlier, by a man far more dangerous, for far longer. 

No matter how much time passes Percy will always hear Gabe’s voice in his head when he thinks about himself, will always have to actively fight it. Fighting is easier to do when you’re surrounded by people who remind you that you are valuable, worth something to them, every day. It becomes fucking impossible when you’re thrown back into an environment that is so toxic and oppressive that the voice becomes all you can hear.

"We're going to be here for you while you start to remember who you are, alright?" Hazel mutters, her voice quiet and steady. "We are going to hold your hand through it because you will not be giving up your dream on our watch. Even if it takes 50 fucking years, we will be here, taking those steps right along with you. Any step is a step in the right direction. Do you understand me?”

He nods, remembers that he is home now. He is home with the people he loves and who love him just as much and he needs to let them help him fight. He needs to muster up what little energy he has left and prove to himself and those evil assholes that he is not all the things they forced him to believe. He is better. And suddenly he is taken back to his first real conversation with Reyna. 

_People like us. People with something to prove._

How she had nailed down the crux of Percy’s issues so immediately, he has no idea. But he knows that she was right about him, and he imagines it must be because she knew him, too—even so early on, she knew him. She knows him now. He is surrounded by a group of people who understand, who know as much as they need to, and they have not turned on him yet. They have not made him believe for a second that he is any of the things he tells himself he is in his own head. They love him. They love him. He needs to make sure his body feels the weight of that truth, forces it to cut through his tense muscles to his chest so it can start to unwind the tension there. 

It’s not entirely enough to set him free of anything, but if the overwhelming pressure can subside, even for just a moment, he will take it. He will take anything he can get, and as Piper kisses his forehead and Hazel wraps her arms around him, he knows that he will get more than enough. He just needs to start paying better attention. 

_A_ _step in the right direction_.

Listening, he decides, will be the first.

—

The last thing in the world Percy thought he would be doing on a sunny Friday afternoon is sitting back-to-back with Annabeth as they and the rest of the band and crew practice their embroidery technique with Clarisse as their teacher. 

It all began with Clarisse’s photoshoot a couple of weeks back, when Percy had asked her if she had any hidden talents. Amongst the most notable were her blackbelt in karate (expected), her amateur champion MMA title (Percy was impressed, but not at all surprised), her ability to grow whatever plant you gave her in her tiny Brooklyn garden (her apparent green-thumb did throw him off), and her impressive embroidery skills (what the fuck). Percy had blanched when she told him about it, and she became defensive, scowled at him.

“What? You think I can’t be delicate? I told you before my job takes steadiness and a gentle hand, asshole,” she had said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, it’s not—can I see some of it?” he had asked, and she narrowed her eyes at him before showing him countless photos of her work.

All of it was incredible, each piece more detailed than the last. Percy recognized Reyna’s embroidered combat boots, couldn’t believe it had been Clarisse who’d done it for her. Immediately his mind went to his mother, whose birthday was fast-approaching near the end of October.

“Please teach me,” he had blurted out, and Clarisse had frowned at him. “It’s just—my mom’s birthday is coming up and I have no idea what to get her and she’s always wanted a handmade Palestinian _[thobe](https://www.tatter.org/palestinian-thobe-embroidery)_ but it’s really expensive to get from all the way over there and it would make her so happy and—”

“Shut up for a second,” Clarisse had cut him off, so he closed his mouth tightly. “Say that word again? Th-oh-bo?”

She said it as if she was saying the word “oboe” and Percy needed to remind himself not to laugh.

“ _Thaaaaawwwb_ ,” he corrected, dragging out the _aw_ so she could get it.

“Thooooobe,” she said slowly, and he bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ve heard of those, I think. Show me a picture.” 

And so he’d done just that, and Clarisse had quickly become enamored by the intricate designs. She had immediately told him he would never be able to do such complex work, but when he pouted she offered to try it out herself. 

“As long as you get me all the materials I need, I could have it done for you in a couple of weeks,” she had told him, and he had thrown his arms around her in a hug.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” he exclaimed, and she shoved him off of her so hard he fell onto his ass.

“Don’t touch me or the deal’s off.”

And so here they all sit, spread out around the front area of the bus while Clarisse stands near the driver’s seat, instructing them all on how to cross-stitch. She is working on the _thobe_ after starting them off with the simple stuff so that they can practice on their small pieces of fabric within their own embroidery hoops. Percy is grateful to have the day off from constantly having his camera hanging around his neck, for the small bit of peace the freedom offers him. After his talk with Piper and Hazel he began to work on that, to become comfortable behind it once more, but doing that work is absolutely exhausting, and this is a much-needed reprieve. He is  focusing hard, his eyebrows scrunched together, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, and Annabeth presses her back into his further.

“What the _fuck_ ,” she whispers furiously. “Ow—shit. Fuck. Ugh.”

Percy knits his eyebrows and peeks over her shoulder to see what’s going on, nearly gets a mouthful of her thick hair. It smells like citrus and is soft as it tickles his cheek and he needs to stop thinking about these things because Hazel is mere inches away from him and he will not break her heart. 

It seems as though Annabeth is attempting to make a grey blob—at least, that’s what it looks like. She has her finger in her mouth and she is glaring down at her fabric as if it is the devil incarnate. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks her, and she exhales heavily.

“I suck at this,” she mumbles around her finger. “I hate it here.”

“What are you trying to make?”

Her cheeks go a little pink as she finally removes her finger from her mouth and she scowls down into her lap.

“An owl,” she mutters, ashamed, and Percy has to suppress his grin.

“You got the body down for sure,” he says, trying to be encouraging, and she exhales heavily and throws her hoop to the ground, crosses her arms over her chest.

“Do not patronize me, Percy,” she says, and he purses his lips and turns back to his own work.

It’s honestly not much better than hers—he had been going for a blue whale, but really all he sees is a long oval with different shades of blue that don’t line up. He had been trying to work on the tail fin for ages, but he couldn’t quite get it. He tosses it over his lap to her and she muffles a laugh and hands it back.

“Okay, I forgive you,” she laughs. “That’s so sad.”

“Fuck off with your grey blob,” he responds, feigning offense, and she elbows him in the ribs.

“I am the fucking queen of stitching,” Piper announces, standing up. “Look at this!”

She shows her fabric to everyone on the bus, and Percy tries to repress his laughter. She seems to have embroidered a flower, but it is so small he can barely see it. Thalia laughs out loud from her position on the floor in front of Percy and Piper frowns. 

“You got something to say, Grace?” Piper demands, offended, and Thalia snorts.

“Where did all your stitches go, Your Highness?”

Hazel giggles from beside Percy and he bites the inside of his cheek. Her own work looks really quite good, and he frowns, wondering how she got such a nice pattern going.

“They’re up your ass,” Piper responds and sits back down, crossing her arms over her chest, and Reyna laughs loudly.

“I know for a fact that they are _not_ ,” she remarks, and Piper gags and throws her hands over her ears.

“Ugh, Clarisse!” Silena exclaims, and everyone jumps a bit. 

She had been quiet and working diligently, entirely focused from the beginning of the lesson, until that moment. She is sitting the closest to her best friend, her legs tucked up on the couch with her, and she pushes her glasses up her nose as she looks at Clarisse desperately.

“It’s not working,” she complains, and Clarisse pauses her work to help out her friend.

“Tell me what the problem is,” Clarisse says in a voice so gentle Percy thinks he is imagining it.

“I just—the thing won’t do the thing and the other thing won’t go through the pokey part and—and—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Clarisse soothes, kneeling down in front of Silena. “It’s an easy fix. Watch me, okay?”

Silena nods, her eyes wide, and Clarisse takes the hoop out of her friend’s hands and gets to work undoing Silena’s mistakes. Percy smiles a little sadly, can’t believe what an unfair situation Clarisse is in. It might be easier if Beckendorf was an asshole, or slimy, or just not right for Silena. But they are such a perfect match that it is difficult to imagine them ever _not_ being together, and Percy can’t think of a single good reason they would have to break up, despite how much he is rooting for Clarisse to get her happy ending. 

His thoughts are interrupted when Leo stands up on the couch next to Piper and throws his arms into the air in victory.

“Time!” he exclaims, and they all look at him. 

“Nobody is timing you, assclown,” Piper says. “What do you want?”

“To prove to the world that I am the most talented, handsomest, sexiest human being on Earth,” he says. “Look at this shit!”

Percy kind of wants to hit him. On his small piece of fabric is an insanely gorgeous golden dragon, with a bunch of different yellows and oranges and reds used for the shadows and highlights. Annabeth grumbles and groans and Hazel claps appreciatively and Piper begs Leo to teach her his ways.

“It’s just like doing anything else,” he tells her. “Follow the steps."

“Fuck your steps, make my flower beautiful.”

Percy jumps in surprise when Grover yelps loudly and sticks his thumb in his mouth, frowning down at his embroidery hoop.

“I just wanted to make _one single word_ ,” he whimpers from the other side of Hazel, and Percy juts out his lower lip.

“What was it?” Percy asks.

He smiles a bit, his cheeks going pink, and Percy thinks he may have an idea as to what the word might be.

“Juniper,” Grover admits, and Hazel coos.

“You’re in love, you’re in love!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around Grover, and he grumbles and tries to wriggle out of her grasp.

“Hazel, I just met her, I’m not in love,” he says, trying to deny it, but his face has gone beet-red.

At the last anti-fracking march everyone had attended in Canada, delaying their journey back into the states for a few hours, Grover had met a woman named Juniper, who was basically his dream girl. She was a devoted climate activist who lived 100% waste-free, growing her own food and filtering all her water and, like Grover, making her own shampoos and other toiletries. He had basically fallen in love with her on the spot, and they haven’t stopped texting or FaceTiming since. The poor boy is a goner. 

The good news, though, is that she is based out of Long Island. Grover said it was fate—Percy couldn’t find any good reason to disagree with him. 

“When’s the wedding?” Percy asks, joining in just to make Grover squirm a little while longer.

“Juniper doesn’t believe in marriage as an institution—it’s all a part of the capitalist system,” Grover says haughtily, and Percy smiles widely.

“She’s fuckin’ right,” Thalia says from the ground.

“Oh hush, you, as if we didn’t sign our own papers 6 months ago,” Reyna shoots back, elbowing her, and Hazel gasps in shock.

“ _WHAT_?!” she screeches, and all hell breaks loose.

Apparently Percy and Annabeth were the only ones who knew until that very moment, as Thalia had asked for Annabeth’s blessing the night before she and Reyna made the decision. Thalia is glaring at Reyna, Reyna is shrugging as if to say _oh well_ and Hazel is losing her mind along with Piper, Grover, Clarisse, and Silena. The Stolls are trying to stab each other with their needles and Phoebe is peacefully cross-stitching across from them, as if World War III is not breaking out right in front of her. Leo starts jumping all around, never looking up from his stitching, but yelling just to add to the chaos.

“You fucking _snakes_ —”

“I was supposed to be your flower girl—”

“When did you have time for a honeymoon—”

“Oh God, _did you_ have time for a honeymoon—”

“Shut up, Piper you’ve defiled every surface of this bus with my brother—”

“WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK—”

“Connor if you don’t _fuck the fuck off_ I will shove this needle up your ass—”

“Why is everyone finding love but _me_ —”

“You see, this is why marriage is a toxic mess—”

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Surprisingly, it is Phoebe who shouts the command with such authority and frustration. Everyone freezes in their spots, stares at her with wide eyes, and she takes a deep breath and looks at Clarisse.

“Can you check this turn? I really wanna round off the edge but I can’t understand how,” she says calmly, and Clarisse nods mutely.

She heads over and helps Phoebe out, and once that’s taken care of Phoebe thanks her, then seems to realize everyone is still staring.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” she says, her cheeks going a bit pink. “Please continue.”

“I have never felt so betrayed in my _life_!” Hazel exclaims, and the cacophony just does not stop.

It is so loud that Percy can no longer comprehend what’s happening, just that it is far too much for his mind to handle. He realizes this is a bit what it’s like to live in his own head 24/7, wonders how the fuck he manages to get by with the constant ruckus. He then remembers that he actually kind of doesn’t, and it almost makes him laugh. Annabeth sighs heavily and tilts her head back onto Percy’s shoulder.

“Wanna split?” she asks him, raising her voice to be heard over the noise, and he inhales heavily.

“Yeah, fuck it,” he sighs. “Grab your hoop—we’re gonna make a goddamn owl if it kills us.”

—

When Percy wakes up with Hazel curled up on his back like a cat, he almost misses the feeling of Leo’s knees in his spine. Despite her small size she is absolutely crushing the breath out of him, and she is in far too deep a sleep to be moving anytime soon. He slowly slides out from under her, then promptly rolls right off the hotel bed, smacking his head against the nightstand as he goes. He groans and rubs the spot, tries to blink his eyes open in the morning light. When his phone buzzes from somewhere above him and he finally manages to find it, blindly searching around with his hand, he drops it on his face and groans again.

He seems to have trouble whenever he has more space to sleep and move and exist in than the confines of the van. While he’s grateful for the opportunity to sleep on a real mattress and have a break from both Leo and Grover’s dragon breath—thanks to Hazel’s weird maybe-crush freaking her out enough to ask him to share a room with her so that she can avoid Annabeth—he can’t deny the fact that he never falls or trips or nearly fucking brains himself when he sleeps in the van. Well, not never, but not so often as this.

Once he gets his shit together he looks at his screen to find that Annabeth has quadruple-texted him about her shoot today. He had done his best to put it off as long as he possibly could, but they had reached a point where there were just no more excuses—everyone in the band and crew, including Percy himself, had gotten their profile done. Annabeth is the only one left, and they will be heading out to the location of her choosing that morning. Her texts are all capitals and exclamations and Percy is too tired to hear the yelling in his head, so he drags himself to his feet, goes through his morning routine, and changes into something comfortable. He has a feeling he might be doing a lot of walking around and bending and trying to catch Annabeth off-guard today if he wants to get anything natural-looking. 

Despite how effortlessly beautiful she is, she truly becomes her stiffest, most uncomfortable self in front of the camera. Funnily enough, Percy is struggling with feeling that way behind it. Another thing they have in common, he supposes.

He makes it down to the hotel lobby, eventually, to find Annabeth in a turtleneck and camel coat with her clunky boots and ripped jeans, as usual. No matter how cold it is her jeans always have rips in them. It is a constant as sure and true as the sun rising in the East, and it makes Percy want to die because all he can do is think about her stupidly long legs. She greets him happily, raising her shoulders up to her ears, bouncing on her heels, and he grunts at her tiredly and makes a face. She frowns and scowls at him.

“Why are you in a mood this morning? You finally got away from Leo,” she says.

“Yeah, and walked right into Hazel’s clutches,” he responds. “She was fully on top of me, the little gremlin.”

Annabeth grins, then, pats him on the shoulder. 

“Thanks for taking one for the team last night. Piper’s a blanket-hog but she sleeps like the dead. Not a loose limb in sight.”

“Ugh, don’t touch me,” he says grumpily, shaking her off, his words betraying the buzzing under his skin where her hand rests.

Her face hardens and she punches him in the shoulder instead, and he rubs the spot, can’t help but smile a bit.

“Rude bitch,” she says and turns on her heel to stalk out of the hotel. 

He jogs to catch up with her, bumps into her as he reaches her, and she purses her lips. If he didn’t know any better he might think she’s fighting off a smile. The early morning air is cold on his skin, and he can see her nose turning pink already.

“Sorry I’m not a morning person,” he apologizes. “There is an easy fix, though.”

“A way to get you to stop being a world-class bitch?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Hot chocolate, baby.”

“Gross,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “I hate chocolate.”

He gasps, then, stops her in front of the van.

“ _What_ did you just say?” he exclaims, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Oh, but it is. You are _grotesque,_ Annabeth Chase. A serial killer, too, probably. Who the fuck doesn’t like chocolate?”

“Me.”

He scoffs, then.

“Your palate is so unrefined,” he says haughtily, lifting his chin in the air, and her jaw drops.

“Hershey’s isn’t exactly the most sophisticated flavor profile, either, jackass.”

“Well at least there’s _flavor_. Are you about to tell me your favorite ice cream is vanilla?”

“What’s wrong with vanilla ice cream?” she says defensively, and his jaw drops to the floor.

“Unbelievable. I would have never become your friend if I knew you were a living breathing abomination,” he says as he opens the passenger side door for her, and she flips him off.

“You are the most dramatic person on the face of the Earth, you know that?” she responds as she climbs up into the van, and he leans against the doorframe.

“Using hyperbole to accuse me of drama? A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

She blows a raspberry in his face, then, and he shuts his eyes as she does, long and drawn out. Once she’s done he wipes off his face and then promptly flips her off and shuts her door, jogs around to the driver’s side. As he starts the car she tucks her knees up against her chest, wraps her arms around them and leans her cheek on top, looking Percy over.

“Where are we going?” she asks him as he pulls out of the lot, and he glances at her.

She is all curled up on herself, her blonde hair falling in a golden curtain down her back and shoulders. She looks soft and warm and inviting and he has never been more grateful to have something to focus on other than her in his entire life. 

“It’s up to you. Usually I just drive around until we find a place that you vibe with,” he tells her, and she sits up, gaping at him.

“Excuse me?” she says. “Are you telling me you have absolutely no plan at all?”

“I plan to take some pictures.”

“Percy! What kind of person doesn’t plan their _job_?”

“A me person.”

“That is absolutely abhorrent, you are a wretched beast of a man.”

He laughs a bit, can’t help himself, and he glances at her to find that her arms are crossed over her chest.

“Why are you laughing? I’m shocked,” she says.

“You’re not very comfortable with free time, are you?” he asks, and she straightens.

“I love free time. I think scheduling my free time is my favorite thing to do.”

He rolls his eyes at her and turns onto a main road.

“You’re a robot with no taste,” he tells her plainly, and she knits her eyebrows.

“You’re a maniac with no sense,” she shoots back.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing our extremes cancel each other’s out, huh?”

She inhales and tilts her head as if considering his point.

“Maybe,” she mutters. “Fire and ice.”

“Makes liquid water, babes.”

“Hmph.”

He smiles a bit, tries to ignore the aching in his chest. Fire and ice could be friends, easily. Friends and nothing more. It’s simple enough. At least he thinks so, until he pulls up in front of the first open coffee shop he sees and watches her rub her eyes, a small pout resting on her lips. It gets a lot less simple after that, so he clears his throat and hops out of the van, trying to put some distance between them.

It’s there, in a tiny cafe at 7 a.m. in fucking Milwaukee, Wisconsin, that it is made incredibly clear to Percy that he is way in over his head. Maybe it’s the way she bunches up her shoulders and turns into a fluffy, grumpy, goddamned adorable marshmallow, or how she leans against his side and rests her head on his arm, or how stormy her eyes become when he finds something new to bicker about to try to forget about all of the things he can’t get enough of. Really, though, he thinks it must be the way she looks at him like he is the only person in the room, always giving him her full attention, really, truly _seeing_ him _._ A tight ball forms in his throat as a couple of exhausted-looking teenagers shyly approach them while they wait for their orders to be called, and Annabeth sends them a cautious smile, as if she knows what’s coming.

“Sorry to bother you,” the first one begins, her dark hair braided down her back. “But…you’re Annabeth Chase, aren’t you? The drummer of Demi?”

Annabeth tenses up a bit, as if she’s ready to go on the defensive, but she takes a deep breath and relaxes, smiles a little more warmly.

“I am,” she says slowly. “Uh, hi.”

The girls’ eyes widen, as if they didn’t think they would get this far into the conversation, and the one in the front elbows her friend who has half platinum blonde and half bright pink hair.

“Uh…oh! Right. Cool. Um,” the girl stutters, and the one in the front winces for her friend and steps forward a bit.

“Sorry. I’m Ayesha. This is Sam. Sam is like super in love with you but she’s also got the worst case of social anxiety I’ve ever seen and you’re like—well, you’re even hotter and scarier in person and I think you may have broken her brain,” she rushes out quickly, and Percy grins widely as Annabeth laughs a bit.

“I’m sorry, Sam, I’ll try to be…less hot and scary,” Annabeth apologizes, still laughing, and Percy chuckles.

“No, don’t! You’re doing great,” Sam says, and then she shrinks down into herself, her pale face going beet-red.

“You really are,” Ayesha says. “We just—we’re on our way to line up for the show. Front row or nothing, all that. Um—sorry, you smell, like, _really_ fucking good. I think my brain might be broken, too.”

Annabeth laughs again and their order is called, so Percy goes to grab the drinks while she does her whole famous thing.

“Do you maybe want a picture or something?” Annabeth asks, and Percy turns in time to see them both nodding furiously. “Got a phone?”

They nod again, but otherwise remain frozen in place, and Annabeth smiles widely, looks at them expectantly. They finally realize what’s happening and start fumbling around in their pockets at the same time. Sam’s hands seem to be shaking a bit too hard and she nearly drops her phone, but Annabeth catches it, steadying her hands for her.

“You okay?” Annabeth asks kindly, and Sam gulps.

“Nn-hm,” she manages to get out, and Percy bites his lower lip to avoid laughing out loud.

Annabeth, for her part, is managing the situation wonderfully. She has even offered a picture, which is major progress on her part—Percy thinks she must have made peace with her fate now that she is about to have a week-long series done for their Instagram page. Her cheeks are a bit pink from all the attention, but other than that you would never know if she was uncomfortable. Percy offers to take the picture on each respective phone, smiles at the image of Annabeth standing between the two friends, Ayesha with the brightest smile in the world, Sam looking close to fainting. Once he’s done he hands them their phones back and picks up the cups he set aside, and Ayesha purses her lips.

“You’re the tour photographer, right? Percy?” she asks, and his eyebrows shoot up to his forehead.

“Yeah, I am. How’d you know?” he says, surprised, and she smiles a bit.

“Instagram thing. Your profile was one of my favorites—I’m Algerian and Lebanese. Thought it was cool that you talked about your mom and her [_waraq 3enab_](https://tasteofpalestine.org/recipes/waraq-dawali-stuffed-vine-leaves). Don’t really see a lot of that from the bands I listen to.”

He smiles widely, then. “Gotta represent, you know?”

She grins, too. “We really do find each other everywhere we go, huh?” He laughs a bit, then, agrees with her. “You kind of came out of nowhere. You’re, like, an enigma. The fangirls all love you.”

He feels his eyes bulge in surprise as Annabeth’s jaw drops simultaneously, and the overly pleased smile that rests on her face worries him.

“That’s Percy,” she says, sounding far too amused for his liking. “Our very own personal enigma.” 

She pauses and meets his eyes, purses her lips as much as she can as she smiles. He would be lying if he said that he doesn’t feel a bit like poor Sam when she looks at him that way. 

“ _I_ for one love a hard puzzle. Makes the solve more fun.”

She winks at him and his mouth goes dry and she raises her eyebrows once, twice, then turns to the girls as if she didn’t just ruin his fucking life.

“Thank you guys, it was really nice meeting you. Hope we see you front row tonight,” Annabeth tells them, and they both nod. 

She sends Sam a wink and the girl grips her friend’s arm tightly, her cheeks getting even redder, and Percy and Annabeth make their way out to the van. Once they’re inside the car Percy starts it, and they idle for a few moments, let the heat come back on.

“You just made that girl’s whole life,” he says after he blows on his hot chocolate. “She can probably die happy now.”

Annabeth smiles widely and rolls her eyes. 

“I don’t think it’s that deep,” she says, and they both look to the cafe just in time to see the pair of friends jumping up and down and shouting. 

She purses her lips and Percy grins widely. 

“Okay, if I was her age and I’d met any of my band crushes—it would be fucking over. I think I might have given up on life because I’d have believed that was my peak.”

He laughs, then, and she smiles a bit.

“Is that why you were so nice to them? Because you understood where they were coming from?” he asks, and she raises one eyebrow.

“Am I usually _not_ nice or something?” she says, offended, and he purses his lips.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but…”

“Shut _up_ ,” she laughs. “Now let’s drive around until…” she grimaces, “…until the _vibes_ are right.”

Apparently the vibes are right once they reach a music shop that’s on a street right across from the waterfront of Lake Michigan. It starts to drizzle, which neither of them really minds, and they head inside the empty shop. Annabeth immediately makes a beeline for the drum sets in the back of the store, takes her place behind a 7-piece kit, picking up the sticks that rest on the stool as she does. Immediately her posture straightens and she takes her position, transitioning between being huddled up and shivering to knowing exactly where she belongs. Percy figures this is a good time to get out his camera, so he takes off the lens cap slowly, so as not to startle her. She’s a bit too busy testing out the bass drum as she examines the floor tom to notice him, her attention totally centered on the things before her. 

This was how he first met her—a stone-cold stare and an impenetrable focus, back straight as a rod, completely enraptured. He can’t believe he went from thinking she was beautiful and terrifying and not knowing anything about her to thinking she is beautiful and terrifying and knowing slightly more about her. Few things have changed, really—he used to question where he stood with her, and while she occasionally does things that make his brain go fuzzy and his stomach drop down to his toes, for the most part they have found their rhythm. New best friends, who fell into the roles so effortlessly that Percy feels like he has known her forever. It’s a comforting thought, rests in safe, neutral territory, despite the fact that it all feels so much more significant than Percy allows himself to give it credit for. Nothing he or she does can have any more meaning than strict platonic love and respect—if for a second he lets his mind wander he knows his heart will be crushed like a fucking bug. As if it hasn’t been already. 

Eventually she starts to play a full song, one Percy recognizes from an older Demi album, maybe even their first EP. He takes some photos of her while her eyes stay perfectly fixed on the wall farthest from them, not moving an inch; she hardly even blinks. He feels chills run down his back, goosebumps rise on his arms—watching Annabeth in action is eerily similar to watching birds of prey hunt their dinners. The razor-sharp gaze, the unwavering focus, the intensity that rests behind her stormy grey eyes and makes them look almost silver. Somehow she is fire and ice all at once, a blaze burning so fiercely that it feels cool to the touch, freezes you in place. 

He uses the feeling to push him forward, gets as many photos as he can before she comes back to reality and remembers the camera, but even now she looks almost inhuman in her ferocity. If the people want to know more about Annabeth Chase, there is no better state to find her in. This is exactly who she is, and Percy can hardly believe he has the privilege to watch it up close not just in this moment, but nearly every night. He feels spoiled, indulges himself for the few moments he has left before he has to force himself to turn away from her once more. Right now, with the camera between them, he can recognize the weight of her beauty, her diligence, her raw talent. He can see all of these things and he can allow himself to feel them, too—as long as those feelings stay trapped between his eye and the shutter of his camera, he might have a chance to survive this.

She plays so many songs Percy loses count as she changes up the fills, improvising where she sees fit. Percy can hear all the songs in his head and as they play out in his mind with her interjections, they only become more impressive. He knows that the point of the day is to go around and take photos and have a conversation, to let the fans learn more about her, but he can’t bring himself to tell her to stop—he is entirely captivated, in awe of her. 

As her last song comes to a close he realizes he has no idea how much time has passed, something that hasn’t really happened to him while shooting in months. He thinks this must be a good sign, a step in the right direction—one more point to trying, to reclaiming his life’s passion. Despite the fact that the song has ended Annabeth continues hitting the bass drum with all the accuracy of a metronome, and she tilts her head at him, scrunches up her nose. He gets a picture because—well, he just can’t bear to look at her straight on, can he? Like Medusa, one stolen glance directly at her face might turn him to stone, or worse, send him shattering to pieces right there on the spot. She pouts, then, and he takes a photo of that too before she sends him a sharp look and stops drumming altogether. He puts his camera down and she purses her lips. 

“My shins are fucked,” she says, leaning down and rubbing them gingerly.

“You don’t really do anything half-assed, do you?” he responds, and she shakes her head.

“What’s the point? Either you’re all in or you’re out—I don’t think people should get to pick and choose when to be committed. Flightiness is out. Devotion is in.”

Percy smiles a bit and she sighs as she stands and leaves the drumsticks on the stool, runs her hand over a cymbal. She reaches down and grabs her coat, which she’d discarded earlier as she slammed down on the drums, and he helps her into it, pulling her hair out from under it and letting it tumble freely down her back. She thanks him and turns to face him and they are _sofuckingclose_ , chests bumping and legs knocking together. But between her chest and his is a barrier in the form of his camera, and the feeling of it digging into his sternum, right around the spot where his love for Hazel lies, snaps him back to reality before he can get lost in the storm raging behind Annabeth’s eyes and the way she bites the inside of her cheek hard enough for her dimple to show. 

He clears his throat and takes a step back, trips on the drum stool, arms flailing and hitting the cymbals as he falls flat on his ass, and Annabeth bursts out laughing, that horribly cute snort rearing its ugly (read: adorable) head. He groans and lies on his back, arms splayed out, can’t really help but laugh at himself, and eventually once she’s calm enough Annabeth stands over him and smiles down at him. He feels his heart stutter in his chest at the sight of her, her eyes bright, curls cascading down around her, cheeks glistening from the amused tears that had streamed down her face.

“You are having quite the day,” she laughs, offering him her hands, and he lets her pull him to his feet.

“I do hate myself sometimes,” he admits, and she smiles widely.

The fact that their hands are still intertwined between them has not escaped his attention, and he knows—he swears, he _knows_ —he must let go, but her calloused palms are warm and welcome in his own and he just doesn’t think he’s strong enough to be the one to break contact. The entire morning he had been exerting every ounce of his willpower on the task of not allowing himself to get lost in the whirlwind of Annabeth’s mere presence, and he has to admit, he is fucking exhausted. 

“Happens to the best of us, kid,” she says, and he juts out his lower lip in a pout.

“Not me. I am perfect in every way imaginable,” he counters, and she rolls her eyes and shoves him away from her.

He is at once grateful for it and fractured by it and he cannot do anything but accept that fact that his life is etched in contradictions, has been since the moment he was born a Percy Jackson to a Salwa Jayussi. Light eyes and dark skin, coarse hair and soft hands, loved fiercely by his mother and rejected by his father. He is no stranger to juxtaposition, to compassion in the face of oppression, the sweetness of sugar stirred into bitter tea, love and hope and home wrapped tightly beneath a layer of anger and shame and desolation. A fire burning despite the snow—not knowing which might be the better of the two. Never knowing if he can trust his own senses in the face of all the ambiguity. All he can really be sure of is the fact that he loves, fiercely, and that he must do everything in his power to protect the people on the receiving end of his affection. 

He leans into gratitude, then—he is nothing without his love, and if he loses that he thinks he may lose himself completely.

They head outside into the wetness and the cold and Percy pulls his hood up as Annabeth walks straight into the rain, not a care in the world. She wanders across the street to lean against a railing that overlooks the lake, the wind whipping her damp hair behind her. His hands itch to take a photo of her standing there, serenity in the midst of a storm, and he gets as many as he can before she will inevitably turn around and realize the camera is on her and close back up again. He has long made peace with the fact that he has never been given any significant information on her discomfort around being photographed, but he wonders from time to time what might have happened to make her so averse. He moves to stand next to her, but the lake is gorgeous and churning and all he wants in the world is to capture its unrest. He inhales deeply, purses his lips.

“It’s so beautiful,” Annabeth says, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “I love the rain.”

He moves forward and leans against the railing beside her, his elbow pressed against hers. Everything that is happening in this moment feels like one big Fuck You from the universe to Percy himself, especially once Annabeth leans further into his side.

“When I was little we had this big window in my house, and I would sit in front of it during thunderstorms to watch the lightning,” she begins, and he looks at her. She is focused squarely on the scene before them, and she takes a deep breath. “My step-mom used to yell at me to get away from the window, said it was dangerous with all the wind knocking down trees, but I was never really afraid of anything that came from outside. It was what was inside that did the worst damage.”

“What was that?” he asks quietly, before he can stop himself, and she narrows her eyes and flattens her lips together.

“Neglect and rejection and a lot of resentment.”

“Worse than a rogue tree branch, then.”

She smiles drily. 

“I would’ve taken a rogue tree branch any day,” she mutters, looking down at her hands. 

“I’m sorry you went through that for so long,” he tells her, and she shrugs, as expected. “You deserved better, Annabeth. You still do.”

She swallows and nods and exhales through her nose.

“I’ve been learning that, little bit little,” she says. “I do deserve people who will really be there for me, who’ll stay.” She looks up at him, then, holds his eyes with hers. “You’re one of them.”

He feels his throat tighten as he nods and he can’t help but reach over and squeeze her hand in his.

“I am,” he agrees, and she smiles a bit and takes her hand back.

“I think you’re really lucky,” she says, looking back out to the water. “I would sit and watch and never know what to do, how to capture what I was seeing, what I was feeling.” She turns to him, then, fully. “You have the ability to do that, Percy—you’re just, you’re so talented. You could keep this feeling alive forever with the right technique. You have it in the palm of your hands. All you have to do is point and shoot.”

He swallows, wonders when it was that she gained the ability to read his mind. Or maybe she just understands him, now, after so much time spent together. He has never really felt more seen by her than he does right now, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life looking into the eyes that are just as tumultuous and alive and breathtaking as the storm which is just beginning to rage around them.

“Takes a little more than that,” he says instead, and she knits her eyebrows.

“Well—I can help you out with those other bits,” she tells him, and he almost smiles.

“Hold my lens cap?” he asks, removing it from his camera and handing it to her, and there it is again. A step in the right direction.

She smiles widely and takes it from him, holds in it her palm gingerly, like it’s made of glass. He inhales a heavy breath and bites the inside of his cheek and lifts his camera to his eye. Shaking hands and a golden goddess viewed through clear plastic and a step in the right direction.

Before he moves to get a shot of the lake he takes a photo of Annabeth standing before him, looking down at the cap in her hands as if it is some sort of precious fascination. It’s how he feels anytime he looks at her, and he wonders as he gets the shot if it’s ever written as plainly on his face as it is on hers. When she hears the shutter go off she looks up and scowls at him, and he smiles and gets one more photo before she shakes her head and moves behind him, physically turns him to face the lake by his shoulders.

Her hands send jolts of electricity through his skin where they rest over his coat, but she has guided him to the perfect shot. All he has to do is point and shoot. Simple. Easy. He takes one more breath, feels Annabeth rest her chin against his back, feels the warmth of her travel past his spine down into his belly. Despite his shaking hands her presence steadies him, and he allows himself to do what he must to capture the moment the way she believes he can.

She will never understand exactly how right she was. As soon as he takes the first picture he knows that any time he looks back on it he will remember the feeling of her resting against him, grounding him, leading him back to himself. 

He wonders if she will feel it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -As you can tell, this story has ended up becoming not exactly what the initial summary said it was. Percabeth is honestly more of a subplot to the main issue of Percy coming to terms with a lot of his trauma and his issues surrounding photography and I truly had no idea that's what this would become when I first started writing it. But fear not my friends, because there will be much more Percabeth to come henceforth.  
> -Also: please send help. If you have any ideas at all how I should go about fixing the summary or the tags to make it more representative of what the story is, send them my way! I will love you forever and send you cookies (or virtual hugs if you are not located in the US/if you don't trust strangers on the internet which you definitely should not so maybe forget the cookies).  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!! I love you all so much!!


	10. would you know what the words meant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap of chapter 9 if you skipped: Frank was Hazel’s first kiss (they were the same age we don’t subscribe to gross canon in this family), Percy finally talks about the Bad Things that happened in Alaska (an abusive asshole mentor to be exact), Percy resolves to start taking steps towards healing, as per usual Piper and Hazel are the best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> -Chapter discusses neglect, emotional manipulation (but not in great detail I promise)  
> -I accidentally wrote 11k words again I am so so sorry  
> -Chapter title from the song Pleaser by Wallows 
> 
> I would like to dedicate this chapter to No_one_Now because you really came through with that summary suggestion and alleviated like 90% of my stress, so thank you, you are a gem!!!  
> As always, thank you all for reading!

_October/November_

Percy wonders, as his 10th sneeze in the past 20 seconds wracks his body, why it seems as though the universe is so dead-set against him. He knows rationally that this is not the case, but his head is pounding, his body aches, and he is so congested that his face feels like an overfilled balloon, ready to pop at any moment. In short, he is in the world’s bitchiest mood. And it’s all Annabeth Chase’s fault.

Alright. So it’s not _all_ her fault. But even she cannot deny the fact that she sneezed on him before the show two days ago and now they are both incapacitated with the flu. 

He had been doing his best to avoid her after her photo shoot, realized there was no way in hell he could ever be as close to her as he was, as often as he was, while still protecting his heart. He just needed a bit of space to clear his head and breathe and remind himself that he could not hold her hand, no matter how much he wanted to. Aside from the fact that it would absolutely crush Hazel, he is certain Annabeth does not want to hold his hand at all, at least not the way he wants to hold hers. So he needs to take a step back and enter a headspace in which those are not the only thoughts he can possibly think. He needs to stop being such a fucking pining loser and needs to just be her best friend.

And it’s been working. Kind of. Or it was, until Percy woke up that morning to Leo tugging on his arm with a medical mask on, telling him he had to go quarantine with the other “flu-ridden mongrel” on the band’s bus. Percy had moaned and groaned and made his way over painfully slowly, his entire body so sore it felt as though he’d just finished holding the sky aloft. When he arrived at the back of the bus’s corridor, Hazel was stood in front of the curtain wearing rubber cleaning gloves and a plastic visor over her face. 

“Through here, please,” she had instructed and then pulled the curtain back to reveal none other than Annabeth Chase herself huddled up on the big couch at the back, coughing and sneezing and looking downright miserable. 

Shit, she was gorgeous. Gross and boogery and an absolute mess, but gorgeous nonetheless. Percy could not help but hate himself.

His eyes had widened when he saw her, and he begged Hazel quietly not to leave him here, for his own good, but she just walked him a couple of feet inside and gave him the rundown: all the blankets, tissues and medicine they might need were on the couch to the right, if they needed to use the bathroom they had to send a warning text first, and he should not, for any reason, sit anywhere other than the far couch beside Annabeth (they didn’t feel like cleaning every surface in the space so thoroughly). He groaned and pleaded but she just patted him on the cheek with her gloved hand and shut the curtain behind her. He dropped his head down to his chest and turned to find Annabeth, half-conscious and paler than he’d ever seen her, wiping at her nose weakly.

“Welcome to quarantine,” she greeted, her voice hoarse and nasally. “It fucking sucks.”

They’d set up the back couch with all the footstools in front of it to make it seem more like a large bed, and Percy sighed as he made his way over to the blankets and asked Annabeth if she would like another one. When she shook her head and then proceeded to cough up her lungs, he grabbed two for himself and tossed one at her anyway. She snuggled up into it immediately. He wrapped himself in one, then collapsed as far from Annabeth as possible on the sitting area and draped the other over his long legs and stomach. 

“What are you in for?” he joked weakly, and she made a sound that could have been either a laugh or a whimper.

“God, I think I’m dying,” she croaked, snuggling up in her own three blankets.

“I’m not God, I’m Percy.”

She had glared at him so angrily he actually recoiled, and he cozied up against the wall beside him, huddling himself under the blankets.

They are still there, not two hours later, and they haven’t exchanged a single word since. Part of Percy is grateful for the silence, for their inability to banter and joke. The other part is miserable and in desperate need of a distraction aside from the boring-ass documentary on Ancient Greek architecture playing on Annabeth’s laptop. He rolls his head so he can look at her and she seems totally engrossed in the film, her puffy eyes focused intently on the screen. She wipes at her reddened nose with a napkin and immediately sneezes after, sending the loose curl which had fallen on her face up in the air. Percy laughs a bit and she frowns at him.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, her voice so congested he can hardly understand her.

“You looked like a cartoon right then,” he tells her, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“I see. You’re done avoiding me, then,” she says, and he is rendered absolutely speechless, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “So I was right.”

It’s a statement she usually says with satisfaction, but falls flat as the blatant hurt in her tone and the pained expression on her face betray her. She looks down at her laptop, and Percy feels a sharp pang of guilt in his chest. He wants to comfort her in any way possible, but what can he say? _Sorry I’ve been avoiding you but I’m basically in love with you but my best friend is crushing on you hard and I can’t break her heart so now I need to stay away from you because you’re all I think about_? For one thing, he would expose Hazel’s feelings, and that wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved. For another, he will sound like a fucking serial killer, and he’s not ready to lose her as a best friend. 

He knows, though, that he hasn’t been the best friend she deserves, and he needs to get his shit together so that he can be. Fuck his heart. She can break it into a million pieces if it will make her happy. He has been selfish, hasn’t thought about how he might be making her feel. He tries to swallow down his guilt as he looks at her.

“I haven’t really been—it’s not _you_ , per se…” he says lamely, then takes a deep breath. “I’ve just been in a weird place, I guess.”

She knits her eyebrows. “You okay?”

He swallows hard and nods a bit, feels the vice in his chest squeeze his heart unforgivingly as a look of concern passes over her features. Now he is a liar, too. 

“You know, people usually go to their friends when they need help, not stay away from them,” she mutters, and he nods.

“I know. It’s just—guess I was kind of ashamed,” he says quietly, looking down at his hands, and this is not a lie.

She reaches over and holds his hand in hers, squeezes it as hard as she can in her weakened state.

“You don’t ever have to feel that way about me, Percy, okay? I’d never judge you,” she says seriously, and he meets her eyes, dark and earnest, and nods.

“Thanks, Chase,” he half-whispers, and she grins.

“Don’t mention it.”

“How are you holding up?” he asks, acutely aware of the fact that her hand is still in his.

“Aside from dying from influenza?” she responds, and he grins. 

Her smile falters, then, and she looks down.

“My—I got a call from my dad a few days ago. After the first picture of me went up for the series,” she says quietly, and he feels his eyes bulge.

“Dickhole dad?”

“That’s the one,” she laughs humorlessly.

“Shit. Are you alright?”

She shrugs and he frowns.

“It’s whatever,” she says, looking down at her lap, and he shakes his head.

“Annabeth, it is not whatever,” he tells her, his own tone surprising even him.

She looks up at him, then, and he tries to think of something to say, anything at all.

“You don’t have to keep pushing your feelings to the side, alright?” he tells her. “You can talk about it. You don’t have to talk about it with me if you’re not comfortable—I would never make you do that. Just…don't say it doesn’t matter. Your dad is an asshole. You grew up with an asshole for a father, and that’s not whatever. The way hearing from him made you feel is not whatever. Okay?”

She nods at him, her eyes wide, and he squeezes her hand once, twice then another two times quickly. She squeezes his back in the same pattern, same rhythm, and he offers her a small smile that she returns in kind. She huffs out a breath and shuts her laptop, scoots down the couch to get closer to him. He takes this as his cue to sit up properly and they sit criss-cross apple sauce, facing each other. She takes his other hand despite the fact that it had been holding a very old tissue in it not two seconds prior, but he can’t find it in him to care. 

“My parents were always…they were pretty serious about my education, even as a small kid,” she begins, looking down at their hands. “I was in Pre-K when I was three, which should have set me up to be reading by the time I got to kindergarten, but…”

“Fuckin’ dyslexia,” Percy mutters.

“Yeah. That.” She exhales a heavy breath and knits her eyebrows. “When they realized I was having trouble they finally took me to a doctor. I was just five, you know, my dad said that it was because I was a kid, all kids had trouble focusing and couldn’t read right away, but my mom was insistent that something was wrong. And she was right. The doctor told them he thought I had dyslexia and ADHD. And that he refused to medicate me because I was too small.”

She scowls, then.

“That’s kind of when everything fell to shit, I guess. My mom wanted me on medication, my dad was really against it. They started fighting all the time, because of me, and I didn’t really make it much better by being as distractible as I was. I was more hyperactive when I was young, so—it was hard on them.” She looks up at him, then, and he can see she’s a bit misty-eyed. “But I was just a kid, you know? I knew they were fighting because of me and I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t control it. I tried so hard. I really, really did. It was just—it wasn’t—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says firmly, and she swallows. “You couldn’t have controlled it, Annabeth, not on your own. You said it yourself; you were just a kid.”

She nods and wipes at her face and he feels his throat get tight. He wishes he could fucking kneecap her loser parents for ever making her feel this way. How could they have ever looked at her and thought she was anything less than perfect? How could they make their love for their only child so conditional? His chest aches for her, and he squeezes her hands firmly, needs to let her know he’s there for her. One, two, onetwo. A steady rhythm, a message. _I'm here_. She sends it right back to him. 

“I know,” she says. “I know that now. I think. Mostly.”

She takes a deep breath.

“They split up eventually, obviously. My mom kind of just…left. My dad was still so against medication that he was willing to do anything, send me anywhere. He was talking to one of his coworkers about it one day and they suggested music lessons I guess, and he just got so invested in the idea. He found me a drumming instructor that night online, just emailed them and kind of poured his heart out and begged for an appointment. They agreed, and they told my dad about the camp I’d end up at with Hazel and everyone, too, since they sent their own kid there. My dad felt like he’d hit the jackpot or something, he was so grateful. 

“That’s what it was at first—my dad wanted me to start drumming to help my ADHD, help me get out my nervous energy. But after the first few lessons with my instructor, I learned it wasn’t all about smashing things and making noise and being chaotic. Drumming requires focus, discipline—if you can’t keep a steady beat, you don’t have a song. It grounded me a lot, helped me more than almost any therapy I’d been in. I could sit behind my kit and just—I could be who my parents always wanted me to be. Someone with control and focus and restraint. Someone they could be proud of.” 

She shrugs, as if this is the most casual admission in the world, as if her speech hadn’t just shattered Percy’s heart into a million sorry pieces. 

“It didn’t take very long for me to realize that I would never be able to make them proud no matter what I did.” She takes a deep breath. “My step-mom came into the picture pretty soon after that. Like…extremely soon. And whenever she was around and my ADHD was bad she would tell my dad to ignore me. She said I was doing it for attention. And that the only way I would grow out of it would be if he didn’t give in to what I wanted.”

She sets her jaw hard and takes her hands from Percy’s, and he feels exactly how she looks—pissed the fuck off. Her eyes are so dark they look nearly black, her face set in a hard mask. It’s obvious that she is angry, but as she pulls her blanket tighter around herself, seems to shrink in on herself, he knows that she is hurt, too. He wishes he could take that pain and make it his own, that he could do anything at all, but the things that have happened to her in the past are totally out of either of their control, now. All he can do is be here, and all she can do is her best. It fucking sucks. He taps out the rhythm on his knee instead of reaching out to her the way he wants to.

“He listened to her, obviously. She was pregnant, with twins, so…double the chance that those ones wouldn’t be massive fuck-ups like me. I kind of just became an…afterthought, I guess. I was constantly either being punished or ignored. And I wasn’t allowed to drum in the house once the twins were born, so…I was just trapped. 

“The summer I turned 8 my dad married my step-mom while I was away at camp for the first time. She thought it would be better, so that I couldn’t be a disturbance. He just did whatever she said, like a spineless fucking coward. I didn’t even know it was happening—I came home and I had a mom and two baby brothers and everything was such a fucking mess.”

She laughs humorlessly and shakes her head. 

“Nobody even…I just wanted to understand, you know? I didn’t—” She takes another deep breath. “I just couldn’t figure out how it had happened. But I knew it was my fault. No matter what happened, it was always my fault. When I asked my step-mom why nobody told me, she said if I wasn’t so bad they could have brought me home for it. And she told me that I had two little brothers now, so I better start being useful instead of disruptive. And I fucking lost it. I ran away for the first time, to get back to camp in New York. I missed Thalia and Reyna and Chiron, the camp director—he let me drum as much as I wanted, whenever I wanted. I felt more at home there than I ever had with my family. I just wanted to be back there. I tried so hard.”

She gets misty-eyed, then, and it seems as though she can’t bear to look at him anymore. She leans back against the couch so that she’s facing forward and he lets her take her time, squeezes her arm over the mass of blankets she’s wrapped herself in. A steady rhythm. Slow and slow and quick. It feels a bit like the way his heart stutters every time he does so much as thinks about her.

“I hated them both so much, you know? But I still…I just wanted something, anything, from my dad. I wanted to know that he cared about me, at the very least. I just never got that from him, ever. And it’s not entirely my step-mom’s fault, it isn’t. He didn’t have to listen to her. He didn’t have to treat me like shit. He could’ve done anything, really, but instead he sent me to boarding schools and did his best to keep me away from his new family.”

She seems to be trying to huff out through her nose, but her nose is stuffed, so she ends up coughing hard. Percy rubs her back soothingly and she half-laughs.

“Pathetic,” she croaks, and he frowns.

“Not at all,” he tells her. “I’m so sorry, Annabeth, I don’t…sorry doesn’t even cover it. But I am.”

“Me too,” she mutters, leaning back against his arm. “I shouldn’t let it get to me like this, I thought I was over it, you know? Like, I went to how many years of therapy? And one phone call from that asshole and I’m back to crying over it? It’s bullshit.”

He frowns.

“The shit we go through when we’re young…it takes time to overcome. For so long you were just doing your best to deal, to get through what was happening. And I’m sure you processed a lot of that in therapy, you know, but—that’s not the be-all-end-all of childhood trauma,” he says, and she looks at him, her eyes wide and glistening. “Like, even after I went to therapy for a while I still went into fucking fight or flight as soon as I smelled this one type of cigar. You getting a call from the person who put you through so much bullshit—it doesn’t matter how long you were in therapy for. That would throw anyone off balance, even the most well-adjusted bastard in the world.”

She looks down and nods and he knits his eyebrows and inhales heavily. 

“Come over here,” he mutters, and she immediately scoots closer to him.

He wraps her up in a hug, despite the blankets that separate them, and he rests his chin on the fluffy mass that he assumes is her shoulder. Or maybe it’s the side of her head. It’s difficult to tell.

“Thanks Percy,” she says quietly. “I’d hug you back but—I accidentally trapped my arms inside the blanket cocoon.”

He laughs, then, and she does as well, snuggles a bit closer to him. 

“Even though my dad’s an asshole, I’m still really grateful that he wasn’t always, you know? Like, he sent me to camp, and if he hadn’t, if he’d just given up and medicated me from the beginning—I never would’ve gotten to meet Thalia or Reyna or Hazel.” She pauses and buries her face in his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have the family I do now,” she mumbles, and he feels his heart warm and shatter simultaneously.

She pulls back from him and looks at him, her eyes lighting up as she speaks. 

“I mean, we fucking started a band together as kids, and now we’re on a North American tour that ends at MSG. And I did it all without those assholes. So just—fuck them. And fuck anyone who doesn’t love their kid unconditionally, or makes them feel like a nuisance just for existing, and fuck the people who say drummers don’t matter, and fuck the people who told me I’d never amount to anything.” She smiles genuinely, then, and Percy feels the pieces of his heart lift and shift towards each other in an attempt to repair themselves. “Look at me now.”

He smiles widely despite himself, can’t help the expression on his face once he sees hers. He wonders how anyone in the world could possibly look at her and think she was anything less than—she was absolutely everything, and then some. Infinity plus one. Infinity plus infinity plus 42. Everything, and then some. He knocks his knee into hers, and she knocks his right back, and suddenly it’s as though they’ve been doing this forever, like they’ve known so much about each other their entire lives.

“Annabeth fucking Chase,” he says, reverently, in awe of her. “You showed them, didn’t you?”

She smiles, but this time it doesn’t reach her eyes, and he thinks maybe she isn’t as ready to say fuck everyone and everything as she initially seemed.

“I guess I did,” she says, quietly, looking down at her hands. “I’m not done showing them yet, either.”

The conviction with which she declares that statement makes the hairs on Percy’s arms stand up, and he has no doubt in his mind that she is absolutely right. She has come so far, but she has so much more to do, to achieve. He hopes, deep down in the pit of his stomach, with his entire chest and body and being, that he will be by her side to witness it. He wants to witness it all, every single second of it. 

Annabeth Chase is not a person that you leave behind—no, she is someone you follow blindly, through hell and back, because she is far too impressive to ever give up. She is one of a kind, a rare portrait of a woman with a fire in her eyes that burns dark grey and a crown that rests upon her head in ringlets of gold. She is everything, and then some, and Percy knows as he admires her phenomenal side profile that she has quickly become _his_ everything, despite his meaning much less to her. 

He tries not to let that thought sting him as the realization burns in his chest, but he does not have the force the small smile he sends her. 

“I have no doubt in my  mind about that, kid,” he mutters, and she grins.

“Well, you’ll be there to see it,” she says, so matter-of-factly that Percy cannot bring himself to doubt her.

“Yes I will.”

She beams at him again, as much as she can while looking as pallid and wan as she does. She manages to free her arms from her self-described blanket cocoon and she nudges his arm until he moves it so she can bury herself in his side. Despite the many layers between them, he is absolutely burning at the contact, and he does his best to convince himself it’s just the fever. 

She rests her head on his shoulder and pulls his arm around her closer, then grabs her laptop and pulls back up that god-awful documentary.

He falls asleep five minutes later. And when he wakes up he will tell himself it was the monotony of the narrator’s tone, the gentle hum of her laptop, anything other than the truth. Anything else but the admission that Percy has never felt warmer or more comfortable than he does in the moments when she rests in his arms. 

Definitely just the fever, though.

—

Percy is a little bit shocked at himself. As he and Hazel drive through Ottawa in the band’s van, taking in the scenery and all the slowly-changing colors of the leaves, he is unexpectedly calm. Aside from the fact that he has checked to make sure he has everything he will need for his day out with Frank today approximately one thousand times, he is doing just fine. 

Percy had texted Frank that he was on board with the trip very impulsively a few days after his shoot with Annabeth, decided that if he was ever going to overcome the things holding him back he would need to actually face his fears. Maybe not fears. More like crippling self-doubt and anxiety. But that’s neither here nor there.

Hazel had volunteered to drive Percy to the meeting location immediately after he told her he was going to go, and he has a sneaking suspicion it was mostly so that she could ensure he would actually go through with it. As he looks over at her while she head-bangs to System of a Down (going 80 on a highway, mind you), he cannot help but feel an immense warmth and gratitude seep down into his bones. He would most certainly not be here if it wasn’t for her constant encouragement and support, and he wishes he could return the favor somehow, tries to wrack his brain for anything at all. He does not think there is anything in the world that could do to possibly express his love for and appreciation of her, so he frowns and then turns up the music, decides to just fuckin’ rage along with her.

Once they arrive at what looks like a small heliport, Hazel cuts the engine and turns to him, raises her eyebrows and puffs out her cheeks.

“Ready, kid?” she asks him, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Think so,” he says uncertainly, his heart finally starting to jump a bit, and she narrows her eyes.

“You can so do this,” she tells him. “You’re Percy fucking Jackson. Photographer of creatures large and small. Brother of whales, father of moose, cousin of…sheep?”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, unbuckling his seatbelt, and she grins. “Thanks, Hazy. I love you, you know.”

“I know. Shame it’s unrequited.”

He gets her back by licking the side of her face and she screams and wipes at it furiously as he grabs his bag and hops out of the van. He is surprised when she gets out of the car as well, but she does not leave his side until they reach the little hut Frank had told Percy about when they spoke earlier in the day. Percy knocks on the door tentatively and out comes Frank Zhang in full winter gear, wearing some rather form-fitting UnderArmor beneath a heavy vest. Hazel stares openly at his massive biceps and Percy grins as Frank pulls them both in for a group hug.

“It’s so good to see you guys again,” he says as he pulls back. “I’m so glad you decided to come, Percy. I wouldn’t want you to miss this.”

“You guys made it this far south so quickly?” Percy asks, and Frank shakes his head.

“We’ve reached the halfway point. Came down this morning so I could get you—we’ll fly up together.”

“Excuse me, _fly_?” Hazel asks, and Percy wishes she hadn’t repeated that part, because yes he is terrified of flying, and no he does not have his trusty _3ilkeh_ on his person.

“Yeah, we’re gonna take the team’s helicopter over there,” Frank tells them, pointing over his shoulder to a very doorless vehicle, and Hazel raises her eyebrows slowly.

“You’re gonna fly the helicopter?”

“Mhm.”

“Wearing that?”

He blushes a bit but nods and Hazel purses her lips and turns to face Percy.

“You gonna be okay up there, kid?” she asks him, and he nods. 

“It’s fine, Hazel, it’s just a helicopter. I’ve been on tons of them,” he assures her, and she narrows her eyes at him skeptically, but nods.

“It’s a really short trip, less than half an hour,” Frank says. “Promise we’ll be safe.”

Hazel turns on Frank, then, and gets in his space, pushes up onto her toes.

“Listen here, Zhang,” she begins, poking him in the chest (probably just because she wants to feel it honestly), “if anything happens to my son I will hold you personally responsible. There will be dire consequences—I’ll break your smooth kneecaps. Do I make myself clear?”

Frank nods vigorously, his eyes wide and afraid, and Percy rolls his eyes and pulls Hazel back into his chest.

“Calm down, killer,” he tells her. “We’ll be fine.” He pauses. “But if I die it was Frank Zhang, alert the presses.”

Frank laughs a bit while Hazel narrows her eyes at him, and he immediately stops and clears his throat.

“I’ll go…check the…over there,” he says, ducking his head. “Nice to see you, Hazel.”

“Yes it was,” she responds coolly, and he smiles a bit as he grabs his bag and heads over to the helipad he’d pointed out before.

Hazel immediately turns on Percy.

“Is Frank, like, super fucking hot?” she asks him, and Percy nods.

“Extremely,” he tells her.

“Shit,” she mutters. “When did that happen?”

“Somewhere between ages 16 and 23, I guess.”

She purses her lips and raises her eyebrows and Percy laughs and shoves her face away from him.

“Get back to your girlfriend, you hopeless bitch,” he laughs, and she grins.

“I can’t think two people are beautiful at once?”

“Sure you can. I do it all the time.”

“Slut.”

He squeezes her nose and she squeezes his right back, then hugs him tightly.

“Have fun today,” she mumbles into his chest. “Take care of yourself, okay? If it gets to be too much, call me. I’ll fly to you my damn self.”

He grins and kisses her head.

“Will do,” he assures her. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime, son.”

And then she is gone, and Percy can no longer see a way out of this. He takes a deep breath as he pulls his backpack onto his shoulder and heads over to Frank, tries his best to ignore his racing heart and sweaty palms. It seems as though the internal peace he had achieved earlier has now left him, and he feels like a fool as he tells himself over and over again, _I can do this_. He repeats it like a prayer, then sends a quick one up to keep him safe on the metal death machine before him. He can do this. He is capable and controlled and—he’s going to vomit, he is definitely going to throw the fuck up and it is going to be so bad. Percy doesn’t get the chance to warn Frank, though, because soon he is loading up the helicopter and helping Percy in and hopping into the pilot’s seat, and Percy’s mouth is too dry for him to form a coherent sentence.

It’s not the flying itself that worries Percy so much as the take-off and the landing. They are always so precarious, and so fucking _loud,_ and all Percy can think about as they go up in the air is how much he wishes he could be on the ground instead. It doesn’t help very much that the doors are off and anything that might get loose could get caught in the rotor and fucking kill them both. But Percy is definitely not thinking about that.

Frank is pleasant enough company, though, talking to Percy about what the trip’s been like so far and taking his mind off the fact that his stomach is about to forcibly eject itself out of his throat. Percy is buckled in tightly near the doors, with three cameras with three different lenses attached hanging around his neck, ready for anything. He decides he should probably warm up, get a feel for the speed they’re going and what angles he might want. He knows for a fact he will be getting about a million lookdown and landscape shots, considers a few rear shots as well. As he raises the first camera to his eye he reminds himself that for now, this is just practice. For now, it's okay to make mistakes. _Point and shoot_. Simple. Easy. 

He takes a deep breath and swallows down the taste of acid in his throat and does just that. Points and shoots. And it’s messy at first, because of his shaking hands and the wind trying to rip at his lens hood (which he’d forgotten to remove like a fool). But he’s used to this. He’s used to adjusting. He has done it countless times before and he can do it again. Figure out the problem, find the solution. Point and shoot. After a few minutes, it becomes easier, better, and Percy can physically feel all the muscles in his body he had no idea he was tensing up relax as he finds his groove. His heart pounds against the vice clamped down on it not for fear or worry but, for the first time in a long time, exhilaration. He is strapped into a fucking helicopter with its goddamn doors ripped off and he is taking photos at an altitude he doesn’t want to think about and he is working it out as he goes. Taking it step by step, little by little. Just like Hazel said. Just like he’d promised.

A step in the right direction.

Once they’ve been flying for around 20 minutes, the leaves on the trees below them slowly start to become less green and more yellow, and Percy perks up as they come upon a massive stretch of land that is absolutely breathtaking. His jaw drops as he takes in the colors, deep, rich reds, rusty, burnt oranges, golden yellows, all mixed in with a few trees that are still a gorgeous green that makes Percy think about Annabeth’s favorite color. 

_Fuckin' nerd_ , he thinks to himself. And, yeah. When it comes to her, he really is. 

Percy focuses instead on the lake nestled in the middle of it all. He has never wanted anything more than to throw his entire upper body out of the helicopter to take proper pictures of what he’s seeing below him. He tells Frank as much, and Frank grins widely.

“Can’t wait to watch the magic happen,” he says, and Percy smiles a bit. “I’m gonna hover a bit lower and keep steady. Please don’t fall out.”

Percy kind of wants to hit Frank for saying it, but he laughs a bit instead, surprising himself. He chooses his favorite camera, the one with what he feels has the best lens in his reservoir. Frank goes down low enough that Percy almost feels like he can reach out and touch the trees, but he knows realistically he is hundreds of feet above them. He takes a deep breath and adjusts himself, manages to kneel down despite the seatbelt preventing him from falling out, nearly shits himself in the process. But all he can see is an endless expanse of the most breathtaking foliage he has ever had the good fortune to witness, and so he focuses all of his energy on its beauty, ignores the barking in the back of his mind that threatens to undo him. Suddenly he feels angry, at himself, at two assholes with bald spots and sharp tongues, because he is so fucking _sick_ of it, of the constant internal battle, of the giving in and the trying to fight back and the everything in between. He wants silence, for one fucking moment, to just be able to live his goddamn life and _look at the fucking trees_. So he tells himself, out loud, to shut the fuck up, and then he takes a heavy breath and half-laughs as Frank apologizes over the radio.

It’s enough to relieve the last of his hesitation, the mix of the rage and the amusement and the Frank Zhang falling into the crossfire of Percy’s battle against himself and his childhood trauma. For a moment he has peace, and he decides to milk it for all it’s worth.

Looking down at the scene below him through his favorite viewfinder, watching the autumn colors bleed and blend together, Percy wonders how he ever thought he could give up on the only thing in the world that has ever come so naturally to him.

This, at least, is not so simple. He knows it’s unfair to himself to call what he had done giving up. He needed rest, distance, and more than anything, reassurance that he is capable and worthy. That everything he put into this path he set for himself was worth it. He still doubts this, even after talking it through and stewing and processing—it’s a difficult journey, he knows. It takes longer than a few weeks, a few months. Time will pass and he will reflect and learn and (hopefully) grow, and he will stumble and fall and maybe even break down once or twice in the process. Maybe more than once or twice. 

But right now he is kneeling at the open door of a goddamn helicopter and he is taken back to all the times he has done this before. Above the tallest peaks in Europe as a train rumbled along, cutting through the blinding light reflecting off the fresh white snow. Over the Red Sea as the sun set, turning its waters a haunting color that its name could never fully capture. High above the Amazon, at the edge of an unimaginably massive organism, each tree and vine and branch and seed connected and thriving and unmistakably _alive_. He cannot believe how lucky he is to be doing it again. 

Point and shoot. Simple, once you get the hang of it. Easy enough after you’ve been doing it for more than half your lifetime.

—

When Percy thinks of the Olympics, he doesn’t typically imagine any of the batshit crazy events that Leo and Piper have outlined on a whiteboard for everyone. _Family bonding_ , Piper had called it. Right in time for Jason’s first arrival since North Dakota, conveniently enough. They have a few days off in Maine before they continue down south, and the lack of work has been getting to all of them. So Percy supposes the timing of the games is convenient not just for Piper, but for everyone else who is ready to die of boredom.

There are some quite simple events, like three-legged races and arm wrestling, some outrageous things, like “Woodchop-Hula-Hooping” and “Beer Goggle Tightrope Walking” and then there are the games that sound kind of normal but are a twisted version of reality. Percy’s personal favorite so far is Cranberry Pong, which he is sure only exists because Grover had gone a bit crazy when they’d stopped at a farm-stand at the Canadian border that exclusively sold cranberries and fresh-squeezed cranberry juice. They had far too many berries to know what to do with, and it seemed as though Leo and Piper put excruciating thought into the ridiculous game just so they wouldn't go to waste. The balls are ripe cranberries, you must get at least two bounces before your cranberry enters your opponent’s cup, and if you make the shot, you are forced to sit on your hands so they can go numb until your opponent either gets a point or misses three times in a row. Percy truly has no fucking clue how in the world these two absolute maniacs possibly came up with such twisted rules, but as he watches the insane glint in Leo’s eyes while he explains Knife-Thrower SlapJack, he does fear for his life a bit.

Naturally, Percy plans to win.

Once again tournament brackets are drawn, friends and wives are pitted against each other, and chaos ensues. All of the events take place in a giant park that’s really just an open field surrounded by a deep forest that stretches out too far for them to see an end. There are surprisingly few injuries considering most of the games involve sharp objects and heights. Percy and Annabeth are teamed up against Thalia and Jason and Silena and Clarisse in the blind-folded scavenger hunt, which, in case there was any doubt that this was totally safe and secure, takes place deep in the woods that nobody is familiar with. Annabeth, Thalia and Silena are not blindfolded, as they have to read the clues, but they are not allowed to search for the items themselves. Instead, they must guide Percy, Jason and Clarisse, who _are_ blindfolded, only by taps and tugs on their shoulders or arms. 

It is convoluted and Percy nearly brains himself on a tree stump while Annabeth laughs hysterically, but once Jason and Thalia find their first item her humor goes out the window and the competition is on. She is a bit scary when she wants to win, poking and jabbing Percy furiously, trying to get him to turn and reverse and kneel down to grab the items. Percy’s kind of glad for the shift, because he was having difficulty denying how nice it felt to have her arms around his torso as she guided him through the undergrowth. He will take the jabs and pokes and fucking elbows if it means his heart will stop nearly beating itself out of his chest at their proximity. 

When they find the last item on their list Annabeth lets out a victory cry and leads them back to the parking lot where they began, but she gasps in shock as Percy stumbles on the asphalt and takes off his blindfold to find that Silena and Clarisse are already there, relaxing on the pavement.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Silena says from the ground, and Clarisse smirks triumphantly.

“Bullshit!” Annabeth yells, and looks at Leo, who is standing there with a clipboard and a stopwatch like a high school track coach.

“They arrived a full five minutes and twenty-three seconds before you,” he informs them, and Annabeth makes a sound at the back of her throat that is a mix of indignation and probably some rage. “Although the Stolls are still the record-holders for the times. Took them less than 10 minutes, isn’t that shit wild?”

“Fuck that! I want a rematch,” she demands, and Clarisse rolls her eyes.

“Admit it, Chase. We are so much better than you will ever be.”

And then Annabeth is tackling Clarisse into the pavement while Silena cheers Clarisse on, Leo laughs his ass off, and Percy watches in shock and awe.

Percy and Piper face off in Cranberry Pong later on in the day while everyone else is off at other events and Hazel refs. Hazel has a surprising number of gold stars on her arm, having won the drunken tightrope walk (tying for first with Reyna), the Gymnastics Obstacle Course, and, in a shocking twist, Woodchop-Hula-Hooping. Everyone had expected Clarisse to come out victorious on that one, but true to its name, Woodchop-Hula-Hoop was not just woodchopping—it was a matter of keeping your hoop spinning at the same time. The only person coordinated enough to both swing the axe and her hips simultaneously had been Hazel, and everyone’s jaw dropped as she chopped and chopped to her heart’s content, twirling all the while. Percy had never felt so proud. 

Now, as he stands face-to-face with Piper, his cups full of ginger ale, hers with vodka (yikes), he is determined to get another gold star of his own. He’d gone up against Jason in arm-wrestling, and they’d both turned into their worst, most competitive selves in the process. Percy had come out the winner, but only just barely. He needs to really lock in another win to feel sufficiently victorious.

Cranberry Pong turns into an absolute shitshow, though. By the end of the game, Piper and Percy have abandoned the table altogether and are just pelting ripe cranberries at both each other and Hazel. Thalia and Reyna arrive from the arm-wrestling arena and join in, and in less than five minutes there is a full-out Cranberry War, every person for themselves. 

“Shit, Hazel, my _eye_!” Leo yells, covering his face, and Percy takes his weakness as an opportunity to pelt him some more.

“Don’t kick the man when he’s down,” Piper scolds, then gets Percy directly in the forehead.

She throws her arms in the air in victory before Grover tackles her to the ground and dumps an entire bowl of cranberries on her head. Percy takes the opportunity to shove some berries up Grover’s nose and he gets the wind knocked out of him when someone barrels into his side, knocking him onto his back on the grass. His eyes widen in fear when he sees Hazel above him, a handful of cranberries ready for throwing in her hand. 

“Hazel,” Percy begins shakily, “think about this.”

“I’ve thought about it,” she informs him. “And I have determined it’s going to be fucking hilarious.”

“Hazel, _no_ —”

Percy isn’t sure if cranberries, thrown with proper force and from a sufficiently close range, can leave bruises, but he is certain that his left eye is throbbing in pain.

“Fucking demon,” Percy grumbles once the barrage is over, and he manages to finally throw her off of him and run away.

He ducks behind one of the tour buses as the sounds of war ring out around him. The juices of the cranberries look like blood and the battle cries on the other side of the bus are full of rage and Percy laughs like a fucking maniac because this is the most fun he’s had in months. He takes a few moments to catch his breath and then Annabeth appears, and he raises his fistful of cranberries defensively.

“Freeze, bitch,” he warns her, and she raises her arms in surrender.

“I’m out of ammo, I swear!” she exclaims. “Please. I need rest. Reyna will not stop until she shoves an entire cup of cranberries up my ass, I’m sure of it.”

Percy grins widely at that, lowers his hand, and her shoulders sag in relief as she collapses beside him, resting her head on the side of the bus.

“I cannot believe I didn’t get the chance to pelt Clarisse in her stupid smug face,” she breathes, and Percy grins. 

“I got her in the back of the head,” he tells her, and she looks at him longingly.

“Damn, I wish that could’ve been me,” she sighs, and he smiles widely. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, listening to Leo try to rally everyone to target Silena and Jason, because “faces that symmetrical should not be legal.” It seems, as they both beg for mercy and Silena screeches, that his speech is successful, and Percy smiles widely at Annabeth. She laughs a bit and shakes her head.

“Can you believe these clowns? We are real-life _adults_. I paid taxes last year. They act like such children,” she says, and he rolls his eyes.

“If I remember correctly you fucking jumped Clarisse earlier because we lost to her fair and square,” he tells her, and she looks at him, shocked and offended.

“Fuck off! I’ll have you know I blame _you_ for that loss.”

“Ex- _cuse_ me?” he says, outraged. “How is it my fault that you suck at being a guide?”

“Well if it wasn’t for your giant fucking feet making you trip over everything, we would’ve been out much quicker.”

His jaw drops in shock and she raises her eyebrows, satisfied, as if that argument is at all valid.

“Fuck off, Chase. You’re a sore loser,” he tells her, and she scrunches up her face in offense.

“I am not!”

“Are too.”

“Arm wrestle me right fucking now.”

He laughs heartily, then, from his belly, nearly falls over. It’s not the statement so much as the way she says it—angry and demanding and sure of herself, as if winning an arm-wrestling match has anything to do with what they are discussing.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, shaking his head. “What is wrong with you?” 

“Everything, probably,” she muses, and he grins widely and nudges her with his shoulder. 

“Fuck off, you’re nearly perfect.”

“Nearly?”

“You put far too much milk in your cereal, it’s appalling.”

“Totally subjective.”

“You’re constantly polishing your cymbals, like, to an obsessive extent.”

“I like being able to see my reflection while I drum.”

He nearly breaks, then.

“Totally weird about pictures for no good reason.”

“Hey, asshole, I have a perfectly good reason,” she defends. “Its name is Frederick Chase and if I recall correctly, the last time you took a stupid picture of me he came back into my life like a goddamn wrecking ball. It’s all your fault.”

He frowns, then, putting the pieces together at last.

“That’s who you meant? Your family?” he asks quietly, and she nods, looking down at her cranberry-stained hands.

“Yeah. My brothers—they’re good kids. Nothing that ever happened was their fault, obviously. They care a lot and I love them, but they think they’re helping when they give my dad updates. Really it’s just a fuckin’ shitshow. So I try not to really let them know about where I am or what I’m doing on the day to day, in case.”

“Couldn’t they just look at your tour schedules?”

“Those change all the time. Plus, it’s not the same. Public knowledge is different from a bunch of pictures of me, that show them how I am, and like, captions about myself. It’s too personal.”

He knits his eyebrows and nods.

“Sorry. I didn’t know,” he mutters, and she shrugs as leans back against the bus.

“Not your fault.” She pauses and grins. “Entirely.”

He rolls his eyes and they hear Reyna let out a war cry as Jason begs for mercy and they laugh a bit.

“Piper knew?” he asks her, suddenly coming to a realization. “And still made you do it?”

She exhales heavily as she tilts her head up to look at the darkening sky. It almost looks like it’s on fire, dark orange and red burning beneath the fading blue above it. Annabeth’s face is half-cast in its glow, streaks of cranberry juice trailing down her forehead and cheeks. It would be a terrifying sight in any other circumstance. 

“Piper is a big proponent of me letting my brothers know I am safe and well,” she tells him. “She’s right—I couldn’t avoid it forever. It didn’t ruin my life. I’m still breathing, right?”

“There is a very big difference between being alive and living well,” he says as she rubs at her shoulder. “Anyone with a pulse is technically alive, but that’s just not enough.”

She looks at him, then, and he opens his palm to reveal all the cranberries there. He thinks it’s high time they team up and win this war.

“Are you taking care of yourself?” He places one in her lap. “Are you making sure that you’re listening to your body when it tells you you need rest?” One more. “Are you allowing yourself to feel the things you’re afraid might drag you down?” Another two—she hesitates, and then picks them up, and he looks up at her. “I’m a hypocrite, obviously—I don’t do any of those things. But I’m working on it. You deserve to have that, too, even if it’s just…peace of mind, you know?”

He tosses her one more and then shrugs and kneels on one knee, peering around the bus to see if anyone is around. The others are all sufficiently engrossed in battle—Connor Stoll is pelting people from his brother’s back as Travis gives him a piggyback ride, running through the ranks. He gets Silena in the eye and she yells in outrage and barrels towards them. Percy doesn’t look long enough to see how it ends. When he looks back around to ask her if she’d ready to get back out there he finds her staring at him, and he knits his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks, and then she’s leaning across the small space between them and tugging him down towards her by his shirt.

He realizes a bit too late what is happening, and he feels his heart jump to his throat. Oh shit. Oh shit, she is going to kiss him, and he has never wanted to kiss anyone more in his _entire fucking life_ , but the cranberries in his hand were given to him by the one person in the world he cannot bring himself to let down. So he leans back a bit as her eyes close and he stutters like a fucking clown.

“Uh—I—um—no,” he chokes out just as their noses brush, and she immediately stops, her eyes widening and her cheeks flushing deep red as she leans back.

“Oh God—” she croaks and covers her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t—”

“Oh God oh God oh _God_ —”

“Annabeth—”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. Be quiet.”

He flattens his lips together tightly and she looks just about ready to die. He feels terrible for having embarrassed her, feels terrible for the fact that he almost let the kiss happen. He was so close. How could he have let himself get so close?

Percy recognizes that the air around them is dead quiet far too late, because immediately after he does the silence is shattered by the sound of battle cries and the sight of all their friends running up on them and pelting them with what feels like an endless supply of ammunition. He raises his arms up to shield himself and tries to block Annabeth from their reach but she shoots away from his side and runs directly into the crowd, taking Piper down in the process.

In the end, Percy gets a few good shots in—he gets Hazel in the nose, Grover in the armpit, and, in one last flourish, throws his handful as hard as he can at Jason, who seems to be particularly enjoying the attack on Percy. He manages to get one smack in the middle of Jason’s glasses and laughs until a cranberry somehow manages to go directly down his throat and he nearly chokes to death. Percy’s eyes widen as he looks at Phoebe like _what the fuck, dude_ , but she is having the time of her life, immune to his glare.

After Percy’s surrender and Piper’s tap-out (Annabeth had no problem wrestling her to the ground), everyone kind of stops what they are doing and takes a few moments to look around. There is cranberry juice absolutely everywhere, turning the scene around them into something from a horror movie. Annabeth will not look at Percy no matter how hard he tries to make eye contact, everyone is disgustingly sticky, and once Hazel collapses on top of Percy everyone’s energy seems to sap out of them simultaneously.

“Food,” Hazel moans.

“Water,” Piper chokes out, Annabeth’s arm still tight around her neck.

“Shower,” Silena whimpers.

“Leo,” Leo says, and everyone reaches for whatever cranberries they can grab off the ground to throw at him at the same time.

Once everyone has cleaned the mess they made and they’ve packed up all the necessary props for the games, they all head back to the hotel to shower and get ready to go out for food. Percy wants nothing more than to talk to Annabeth about what had happened back there, just to make sure she is alright, but he also knows it might be best to give her her space. She tends to come around, eventually. But Percy fears that maybe this time she will not, and that thought fuels his anxiety all throughout his shower, once they arrive at the restaurant, and throughout their meal.

There are so many of them that the place needs to set up three long tables to fit them all, and Annabeth sits as far as she can from Percy. He tries to pretend like it doesn’t sting, leans against Hazel who is seated beside him, rests his cheek on her head.

“Wait a second,” Jason begins from the seat between his sister and Leo. “Where the fuck did you guys get an axe and a hula hoop for the woodchopping thing?”

“My axe,” Reyna says, not looking up from her food as she raises her hand.

“My hula hoop,” Grover tells him from beside Percy, and Percy grins.

Jason smiles a bit.

“For recreational purposes, or…”

“Well, Jason, if you must know, my condition prevents me from exerting myself. Hula hooping is a great way to get in an aerobic workout without compromising my health,” Grover informs him, chin held up high. 

Percy smiles and ruffles his best friend’s hair, and Grover smacks his hand away, then intertwines their fingers.

“I wasn’t judging!” Jason insists.

“Ableist bitch,” Hazel remarks, and Thalia snickers.

“For fuck’s sake.” 

It is only later, once dessert is served and Percy feels like his stomach is going to explode from how much he’s eaten, that he finally gets the chance to talk to Annabeth. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom and he considers the fact that it is creepy but he also knows her and knows that she can avoid him for as long as she needs to, and he cannot handle it. So he waits a few moments then gets up himself and heads towards the bathroom. He is waiting in the hallway when she comes out and she jumps a bit, not expecting him, then her eyes get wide.

“Please don’t run away,” he says so quickly his words run together, raising his hands in front of him. He realizes how creepy it seems, then, and drops his hands. “Sorry. That was weird. I just…needed to talk to you. Please.”

She grimaces as if she has never been more uncomfortable in her life and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Percy, I just…oh God.” 

She puts her face in her hand, then, takes a deep breath, and looks up at him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she finally says, moving her hands to her hair, seemingly unable to look at him. “That was so stupid, I thought—oh God, Percy.” She looks up at him then. “I just made you so uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head.

“Annabeth, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. Honestly,” he tells her, and she shakes her head.

“I’m going to worry about it, that was so…fuck, it was so wrong of me to put you in that position,” she says. “I was so stupid. I don’t want this to—you just mean so much to me and I can’t—I don’t want to lose you.”

He stares at her in shock, and she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyebrows scrunched together in fear.

“Annabeth, you could never lose me, first of all,” he begins, and she swallows, her eyebrows lifting hopefully. “Secondly—I don’t fucking care about what happened back there. I mean—I care if you want to talk about it, obviously, I care about how you feel, I just—it doesn’t change anything for me, okay? You’re still one of my best friends. I don’t want to lose you, either.” He half-laughs. “That’s why I fucking followed you to the bathroom like some kind of predator,” he huffs out. “I was scared you might…I don’t know. Push me away or something.”

She shakes her head, and he gives her a look.

“Okay, maybe for a little while,” she admits, and he smiles a bit.

“Well, I need you to know that I meant what I said,” he tells her earnestly.

“Pinky swear?” she asks, sticking her hand out, then pauses. “It can be a…kiss-less one.”

He laughs a bit and she smiles slightly and he hooks his pink through hers, forces himself to ignore the shock that goes through his system as he does.

“Thick and thin, kid,” he assures her. “Even if thick means you’re trying to lay one on me.”

“Oh fuck _off_.”

“I had no idea I was so irresistible—”

“Go _fuck_ yourself—”

“Even though I was sticky and gross, you just could not contain yourself—”

“Percy Jackson!” she exclaims, half-laughing. “Do not make a mockery of my mortification.”

He grins widely at her and she returns it and shoves him away from her. He tugs on her ear, once, twice, two more times, and she returns the gesture in kind. 

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters, but there’s no heat behind it, and he exhales heavily.

A steady rhythm, sent right back to him.

He throws his arm around her shoulders as they walk back to their tables.

“I try my best,” he sighs, and she elbows him in the ribs hard before taking her seat.

He notices Piper’s narrowed eyes as she observes both of them, and he sticks his tongue out at her and crosses his eyes when her gaze meets his. She just purses her lips and sips the tea in front of her, and he rolls his eyes and looks pointedly at Jason. She minds her own business after that.

Despite it all, Percy can’t help but think that he and Annabeth will bounce back from this. They will be okay. He knows now that she wants to kiss him, at least, which, in any other circumstance, would be fucking incredible. But kissing someone and holding their hand are two very different things and maybe Percy wants to do both but mostly he wants to do one and he’s not sure anymore how strong he can manage to be after this. 

He’s not quite sure where to go from here. He doesn’t know what the fuck he is supposed to do. Does he tell Hazel about what happened and break her fucking heart or does he let her find out in her own time? Will she ever find out at all? If she does, will it hurt her as much as it does him? Maybe Annabeth wants to kiss her, too. You can want to kiss two different people at the same time. Hazel seems to be in that position herself. But there is something about this that just does not sit right with him, and he cannot quiet those thoughts as Hazel offers him the last of her dessert and collapses into his side. 

She is soft and warm and right where she belongs and Percy feels an overwhelming sense of dread settle over his stomach, because he knows what he must do. And it fucking sucks.

_One step forward, two steps back_. 

Seems about right for him.


	11. the night found me and put out my light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end, folks. Which is why I sincerely apologize for what you're about to read:  
> *Trigger Warning*: Vomiting, references to psychological abuse, difficult emotions (specifically anger)  
> -As always I will mark the section with the *** — *** so you know what to skip. This time it's a section in the middle (not the end!!) so there is more after it. There are 4 sections, and it is section 3, if you want to know exactly where it is  
> -If you need to skip the section, skip it! I will recap any significant plot points in the next chapter's summary, as per usual  
> -Chapter deals with past trauma (vaguely), feelings of self-doubt  
> -Chapter title is from the song Sa'alouni An-Naas by Fairuz  
> As always, thank you so much for reading!

_November/December_

For the life of him, Percy cannot stop thinking about his last conversation with Frank. The words replay in his head, the offer that is still on the table, will be on the table up to the very last moment. _It’s all yours if you want it_. All his. An opportunity he has dreamed of since he took his first picture of an animal—a maniacal Central Park squirrel who had jumped out at Percy as he was trying to take the photo. The result was a hilarious shot of the squirrel in mid-air, blurred out except for its beady eyes. Percy had nearly shit himself in the process, but that was the moment he saw his path so clearly he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. 15 years have passed, and his dream has not changed. And now he has the chance to make it a reality.

He really is trying not to think about it.

It’s not like he doesn’t have plenty of distractions to choose from—in the middle of a hotel parking lot in Portland, Maine, Leo is finally revealing his creation, the project he has been working on ever since he became determined to make Percy fall in love with him. His pièce de résistance. 

A robot that shits fire, apparently.

According to Leo, the robot really isn’t _supposed_ to shit fire—it seems as though everything he touches eventually ends up engulfed in flames, though. The machine is small, compact, a little rover just a tad smaller than a Roomba. At first Percy was confused, couldn’t figure out what he was looking at. Despite the robot’s small width it was quite tall, and it had a piece that almost looked like a tripod with a lever at the top. Everyone present—Percy, Hazel, Grover, Thalia, and Reyna—had tilted their heads in confusion as they watched Leo control it with his phone. Leo had looked at all of them excitedly, bouncing on his heels like a maniac, and they’d all just kind of stared blankly back at him.

“Oh come _on_ , guys!” he’d yelled. “You really can’t tell what it is?”

“Junk metal on wheels?” Reyna tried.

“A very bad model of the Empire State Building?” Hazel asked.

“A butt plug for a giant?” Thalia suggested , and Leo had huffed out in annoyance as Percy did his best not to burst out laughing.

“It’s a fucking _automated, mobile tripod_ , you blind fools,” he told them. “Look at it! You set the camera here, you make sure the lever is on the shutter release, and you let it work its magic!”

Percy knit his eyebrows.

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” he said to Leo. “How am I supposed to visualize my shots?”

“It’s connected to your phone, smart-ass,” Leo responded. “It’s not just a normal tripod—there’s the wire that connects it to Bluetooth and then—voila!”

He looked at Percy expectantly, and Percy tilted his head in consideration.

“Hmm,” he hummed.

“I spend months building you a fucking lifeline and you say _hmm_?” Leo said indignantly. “You evil bastard. I built this robot for _you_. So that you could get close to the animals and shit and take pictures without having to like…do the picture thing, because we could all tell you were struggling—”

“ _Leo_ ,” Thalia hissed.

“—and all I get is a _hmm_? Fuck that. I’m incredible. I don’t want you to fall in love with me anymore.”

There were far too many things to process in Leo’s speech, many of which would most likely lead to mortification if Percy thought about them for any longer, so he chose to focus on one.

“You…you really put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?” Percy asked, and Leo looked at him like he was the dumbest bitch on the face of the Earth.

“Of course I did, asshole. The name of the game is love and I came to win.”

Percy had swallowed, a bit overwhelmed, because it actually was incredibly thoughtful and kind of Leo to do this for him, no matter his motivations. 

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Percy muttered. “Thank you.”

Leo’s face softened and he raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Wait, you like it?” Percy nodded. “For real?” Percy nodded again. “Have you been sufficiently wooed?”

And then the robot sputtered and made a sound like a mechanical fart and out came the fire-shit. Everyone had ducked for cover and Percy threw his body over Hazel’s until Leo told them it was safe.

“Ah, fuck, not again,” Leo sighed, waving the billows of smoke away from his face. “I can fix this.”

And now, as they all sit around watching Leo fiddling with his invention and Grover talks about how Percy needs to keep the machine as far away from nature as possible, Percy is back to thinking about Frank. He is so desperate to get it out of his mind that he turns to Hazel and leans his head on her shoulder.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks quietly, and she nods. 

They stand up and make their way across the parking lot as Leo calls after them and Grover chides Percy for abandoning him, and Percy sighs and wraps his arm around Hazel’s shoulders. He’s not sure when he’ll get the chance to be alone with her again, realizes that now is probably the only time he will have to tell her the truth about what happened. 

It is prime time to break his best friend’s heart. And he fucking hates it.

“Where are we going?” Hazel asks as they wander farther away from the venue, entering the city. 

“I don’t know,” Percy responds. “Just wanted to get away from the exploding tripod.”

Hazel laughs a bit and they are both quiet and the air feels too tense for them. Never has something so dreadful sat between them for so long, and Percy hates the way it feels, heavy and oppressive and _present_. There is no escaping it, no way to avoid it, so he takes a deep breath and begins.

“I need to tell you something,” they both say at the same time, then whip their heads to look at each other and separate.

“You go first,” they both say again, and then sigh.

“I’ll go,” Hazel tells him, and he nods. 

She bites her lip and nods her head so that they can keep walking, and they continue on for a few quiet moments, their arms brushing against each other’s. 

“I talked to Annabeth,” Hazel says, and Percy nearly chokes.

He stares at her, eyes wide and afraid, because he thinks Annabeth must have told Hazel about what happened. But Hazel does not look sad or angry or even slightly upset, which just does not add up.

“What about?” Percy asks cautiously, and Hazel sighs.

“About my stupid ugly maybe-crush,” she says miserably. “I mean—fuck, dude. It was getting to be too much, you know? Like, I have been demisexual my whole life. I should have this shit figured out by now." She pauses. "It takes a lot, for me to get to a point where I actually feel attracted to someone. I need to feel connected to them, you know? But I’ve never wanted to kiss any of my best friends, that hasn’t been an issue. And it’s always been clear to me what I’ve wanted and I’ve never had any problems figuring it out until now. So I just—I had to do it. It was driving me crazy.”

“Shit, dude,” he exhales heavy, wrapping his arm around her shoulder once more. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Me either. But then…I don’t know. I couldn’t stop thinking about how you went up in that damn helicopter with Frank. How scared you were to try and then—you came back and, Percy. It was like you were _you_ again. You fucking—you came alive.” He swallows, and she stops him again and holds his shoulders. “I know you’re not totally comfortable still, but—what you did, that was incredible. You were so brave. And it paid off. And I’ve always looked up to you, obviously, and just…I always want to be like you. You help me be brave every day. You dropping out to become a photographer…that was the reason I decided to go all-in with Demi.”

Percy’s jaw slackens and she nods seriously. 

“I never told you that,” she says quietly. “I was so used to being the little sister, you know, always getting yelled at for being a copycat or whatever. I know you would never, but…I didn’t want to upset you. But it’s true. The second you did what you had to do to follow your path was the second I knew I had to do the same. This time was no different.”

He cannot believe his ears, cannot wrap his head around what she is telling him. He knows he has always been an older brother figure for Hazel despite how small their age difference really is, despite the fact that Nico is a perfect brother to her. But she and Nico had been separated for such a long period of time, only brought back together when they were older, and Percy—Percy has basically been with her for as long as she could remember. So he knows, really, that she loves him so deeply, but he could never fathom just how much, until this moment. It overwhelms him, makes him go misty-eyed, and as she swallows he sees that she is in the same position.

“Hazel Levesque,” he says quietly. “You little shit. I fucking love you.”

And then he grabs her in a bone-crushing hug, cannot help himself. Fuck his inhibitions—he will hug this girl until his muscles give out, do anything to show her how much she means to him. She has warmed his cold, sorry heart so deeply that the zero degree weather feels like a heatwave, and if they weren’t in public he would probably sob into her hair. He settles for peppering her head and face with kisses and she grunts and shoves him away from her. But she is laughing, her face shining with mirth, and he knows that she can see the same feeling reflected in his own expression.

“I’m so proud of you,” he tells her and kisses her hand, and she rolls her eyes.

“ _I’m_ so proud of _you_ ,” she responds, and he juts out his lower lip.

She nods her head in front of them and they continue to walk along, hands intertwined.

“What ended up happening, then?” Percy asked. “Any resolution? A heartwarming end to the story? Did you kiss as the first snow of the winter fell around you?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves into his side.

“Shut up,” she laughs. “None of that, actually. We just…talked. It was nice. I felt, like, this weight lift off my chest. Getting everything out in the open was so fucking cathartic, I loved it.” She exhales heavily. “I think maybe it’s just been hard because she’s so hot, you know?” Percy laughs a bit, and Hazel grins. “But really. It’s all the time we’ve been spending together. It’s hard to suss out what’s happening in my head and my heart and my guts when I don’t have any real space to process it.”

“So you’re not in love with her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t even know if I wanna kiss her.” Percy nods, and she purses her lips. “Actually, I do. I wanna kiss her. I think. But she does not want to kiss me.”

Percy frowns.

“I’m sorry, Hazy,” he mutters, and he dreads even more what he must tell her once this part of their conversation is over.

“It’s okay, really,” she says honestly. “I was like—really okay with it. She offered to give me more space and stuff to figure out what was going on, but. I don’t know. I don’t think it’d help with the situation we’re in. We’re just together all the time anyway. I think I just need real time away from her for a while, once tour's over.”

He nods. “That makes a lot of sense,” he says quietly, and she nods.

“Yeah.” She turns her head to look at him, then. “What’d you have to tell me?”

His eyes widen a bit and he swallows, looks forward. He has never dreaded anything more in his life, has never wished he could go back in time and stop an event from happening so badly. He feels a ball form in his throat, preventing him from speaking up, and he can feel Hazel getting impatient beside him.

“Ugh, Percy, don’t do that,” she complains. “You know how scary that dramatic pause shit is. Just tell me.”

He squints down the sidewalk, bites his lip hard. He cannot bear to look at her.

“I—um—oh fuck,” he stutters, and then stops them. He takes a deep breath and turns to face her, then. “Annabeth tried to kiss me.”

Hazel’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, and Percy winces hard, ready for her to scream and yell and tell him he is an utter piece of shit. But instead her jaw drops and she continues to stare at him, just like that.

“Hazel?” he says cautiously, afraid she has gone into shock. “Hazel, are you okay?”

She does not move a muscle, not even to blink, and Percy thinks he must have killed her. This was the last straw, the one that broke the camel’s back. He has killed his best friend.

“Wake up, bitch!” he says, shaking her shoulders, and she finally breaks, a massive smile taking over her face as she giggles. 

She fully starts laughing as he stops and knits his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Wait—why are you laughing? Your maybe-crush tried to kiss me. You should be chasing me down with a knife, no?”

Hazel rolls her eyes and punches his arm hard.

“She told me, already, you dumb bitch,” she says, still laughing a bit, and he knits his eyebrows in confusion.

“ _What_?”

Hazel sighs heavily, exasperated, and rolls her eyes again.

“You truly are the slowest boy in the world,” she tells him. “I know she tried to kiss you. I also know that you said no. There’s really not much more to it than that.”

_Aside from the fact that I wanted to say yes._

Percy swallows.

“You’re not upset?” he asks, and it’s her turn to be confused.

“Why would I ever be upset about that? It’s not your fault you’re so damn cute.”

He grins, then, widely, and they laugh together for a moment.

“Holy shit,” he exhales, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “I am so fucking relieved I could cry.”

And he means it. That awful aching pressure in his chest that has been building and building ever since the night in question was nearly enough to make him explode. He knew that he would crack under the pressure of it at any moment, but now that Hazel knows, and she does not hate him, and she is not hurt—well _fuck_. It’s like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders. He can breathe easily for the first time in days. He feels invincible, like he’s walking on air.

“Oh God, is this what Leo feels like when he blows shit up?” Percy breathes, and Hazel laughs and shoves him away from her.

“Probably,” she giggles. “You really thought I’d be mad at you?”

He sighs heavily. 

“Not mad, just…hurt. I never, ever want to hurt you, Hazel. The second I do is the second my sorry soul gets damned to hell. I would sooner rip the world to shreds than ever be the cause of your pain.”

She sighs and pats his cheek gently.

“You are far too obsessed with me for your own good,” she informs him, and he nods and leans his cheek into her hand.

“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t care, though.”

She smiles widely.

“I love it, personally.”

He rolls his eyes and they walk along, finally entering a downtown area that is bustling with life and lined with cute shops and restaurants.

“It didn’t upset you even a little?” Percy asks, and Hazel raises an eyebrow at him.

“You seem to really want to hear about my suffering for someone who would tear the world apart for me,” she responds, and he gives her a look. She sighs. “Maybe a tiny bit, you know, like when you hear your crush likes someone else. But like I said—I don’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. Annabeth tried to kiss you? Sure. Thalia and Reyna eloped? Disappointed but not surprised. Frank Zhang is hotter than ever before? Even better.”

He laughs a bit and kisses her head and she exhales heavily.

“Now there’s a person I know for a fact I would like to kiss,” she remarks. 

He raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah?”

She nods.

“We were really close,” she tells him. “He was so easy to know. At first he was super shy but once he opened up, he was sweet and thoughtful and so considerate.” 

She sighs heavily, and Percy smiles.

“He’s still the same,” he tells her, and she groans.

“Stupid idiot,” she grumbles. “I wanna kiss him so bad.”

Percy laughs as they walk along until she pulls him into a coffee shop that is small and cozy and smells like heaven. He thinks this might be a good time to bring up Frank’s offer, to talk it through with her. Surely Hazel would know what to do. In fact, Percy knows exactly what she would say. She would tell him to go, because it is a once in a lifetime opportunity. She would tell him to pack his shit and leave tomorrow. The sooner, the better. 

But he’s not ready to be told he must go, yet. He’s not ready to face the fact that it feels inevitable, that he will repeat the cycle of selfishness he started the first time he ever left her. He doesn’t want to do that to her again—he doesn’t want to do that to any of his friends. He can’t bear the thought of leaving any of them behind, and not for as long as he will if he accepts this offer. He has a family now, with these people. More than just Hazel and Piper and Grover, he has everyone in the band and crew and he knows for a fact he will feel more homesick than ever before now that he has let all of these people into his heart. 

He’s afraid it might break him. 

He watches Hazel bounce on her heels as she tells him all about her plans for the MSG show, the setlist and the stage design and everything in between. Her dark eyes are alight with uninhibited enthusiasm, and he cannot contain the smile that overtakes his face as he witnesses her joy in all its glory. How could he stand to leave her? He loves her far too much for his own good, he knows. But he just cannot bring himself to care.

Hazel Levesque is the beginning and end of everything, for him. A guiding light, a hero in disguise, a pillar of strength and love and devotion. A sister and a best friend. Coily curls and warm, steady hands and skin dark as the roast coffee beans she loves so much. Light and love and home. Above all else, she is his home. 

Which is how he knows that when she tells him he must go, she will be right. Home is safe and forgiving and gentle. But it is easy to get lost in, to become so comfortable with that you forget there is a world outside of it. And it’s time, he knows, to get back to that world.

He kisses her head as they walk along with their drinks warming them up from the inside, and he listens and laughs and loves her because he knows. He knows exactly what he must do.

He’s just not ready to go, yet.

—

If it were possible to capture exactly how gorgeous the view out of Percy’s window is at this very moment, he would do it in a heartbeat. Does he have four professional cameras within his reach? Yes. Can they possibly encapsulate the feeling he has as he looks out into the hazy pink dusk through his fogged-up window? Absolutely not. 

Aside from the fact that he is driving, he just does not think any photo could do it justice. He gets so overwhelmed with the feeling that he pulls over onto the side of the highway suddenly, making Annabeth sit up in confusion in the seat beside him. They are on their way to pick up eight pizzas for the band and crew to enjoy because Piper had forgotten to plan a meal for the extra show they added the next day in Massachusetts. Everyone had been hungry and cranky and Piper was not faring particularly well after Jason’s departure and Percy couldn’t bear another moment of their bitching when she was so clearly distraught. So he offered to get them pizza from literally anywhere they wanted, and they’d decided on some obscure random shop that the Stoll brothers insisted was the best in the state. Except it was an hour away, and Percy got distracted far too easily, so he’d asked for a copilot. When Annabeth had offered up her services, he’d glanced at Hazel briefly, found that she was too busy annoying Reyna to care, and accepted.

The only problem is that Annabeth happens to be his biggest distraction. So he has been fixating on the colors in the sky instead of how the entire cab of the van is filled with the scent of her shampoo and how gentle she looks bundled up beside him.

“What’s going on?” she asks as he puts the car in park, and he exhales a heavy breath.

“Look outside,” he tells her, and he watches her expression stay set in confusion as she does.

“The sky’s…pretty?” she says, unsure, and he frowns at her.

“ _Look_ at it. It is so fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those sunsets that doesn’t just color the sky—the _air_ looks pink and purple and blue. The fucking air is tinted. It’s so goddamn beautiful.”

She tilts her head at him.

“Are you gonna take a picture, or…?”

He sighs heavily.

“Nothing can capture the way this makes me feel. Look at those fuckin’ trees, man. Their leaves are just barely hanging on but the sky behind them…winter is coming.”

“Okay, Game of Thrones, what the fuck are you on about?”

“You know when the weather is starting to turn in the city and it goes from being chilly enough for a jacket to just freezing cold overnight? And the sky gets dark earlier and everyone is just trying to get home and comfortable and warm before nightfall? And if you’re lucky enough to make it home before it’s totally dark you get cozied up with a hot drink of your choice and you watch the sky change colors while all the lights come on and everything is really peaceful and soft and whatever might be weighing on you kind of just feels lighter for a second?” 

She nods, and he gestures in front of them. 

“That is exactly how this feels. Except it’s even fucking better, because there’s no light pollution to get in the way of the real color of the sky.”

She inhales heavily, looks back out the window at the cars passing by thoughtfully, and nods.

“You’re right,” she mutters, and he cannot describe the relief he feels at the fact that she understands. “What do we do? How do we keep it?”

He sighs.

“It’s not ours to keep,” he tells her. “We sit and we let it fill us up and then we keep going. That’s all we can do.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees that she is looking at him, and he can’t bring himself to look back at her. So he lets the feeling fill him up, lets himself enjoy the smell of citrus in the air and the warmth from the heater and breathes, just like his mother taught him. 

“I have to ask you something important,” Annabeth says quietly. “And I need you to answer honestly. No bullshit.”

He turns to her and she meets his eyes in earnest, pleading. He knits his eyebrows and nods.

“Of course,” he tells her, and she takes a deep breath.

“I spoke to Hazel,” she begins, and he nods. “She told me about how she feels. Or doesn’t. How she’s all muddled.” He nods again. “I just, um.” She clears her throat. “You kind of pull away really randomly a lot. Like, we’ll be talking or physically close, I guess, and you just…close up. And it only kind of happens with me.” 

He swallows, waiting for what is bound to follow, starts to feel sick to his stomach. 

“If it’s nothing to do with me, that’s totally fine, whatever, we can move on. But Percy…I need you to tell me why. Because sometimes I feel like we’re close to—I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe I’m rambling and none of this makes sense—”

“It makes sense,” he tells her, because he can’t bear to hold it back anymore, and her eyes bore holes into his. 

Grey on green and the air around them turning the world rosy and soft. She is staring at him as if she doesn’t believe what he’s just said, and he nods, needing her to understand. 

“It makes perfect sense. You’re right. I do—do that. I do it whenever I feel like we’re close to whatever the fuck it is we’re close to. You’re right.”

She exhales a heavy breath, half-laughs, and shakes her head. 

“That’s the first time I kind of hate being right,” she mutters quietly, and he scrunches up his eyebrows as she looks down at her hands. “Can I ask why?”

She says it so quietly he can barely hear her, as if she is afraid of the question, as if she can’t stand to hear the answer.

“It’s not because I don’t want whatever we’re close to, to happen,” he says, and her eyes shoot back up to his. “Whatever happens—I need you to know that. Okay?” 

He takes a deep breath and faces forward, doesn’t think that he has it in him to look at her anymore. He cannot do this, be so close to her, talk so openly about the way he feels about her, finally recognize the significance that exists between them. He can’t ignore something that has been acknowledged—the only thing left to do is think and process and talk. But doing all of those things makes holding himself back from her excruciatingly painful. Everything in him is aching for her, and all he can do is scrub his hands over his face and keep as much distance between them as possible.

“I want it so badly that it fucking hurts,” he says quietly. “But Hazel—” 

He shakes his head and looks at her, holds her eyes with his, begs her to understand. How can he put into any meaningful words how much his best friend means to him, how he would sooner throw himself off a cliff than ever hurt her? It’s an impossible task, and he pleads with her in those moments of silence so desperately that he thinks he may cry.

A look of understanding passes over her face, and her pained expression turns softer. She nods and reaches out for his hand, and he lets her take it because he needs it just as much as she does. He feels the rough, hardened skin of her palm against the back of his hand, brushes his thumb over the back of hers. Smooth like velvet, in total contrast to what rests on the opposite side. He twists his hand and locks his fingers between hers and they both squeeze at the same time. One, two, onetwo. He lets the feeling of her palm against his send its shockwaves throughout his entire being, curls his fingers to soothe the back of her hand. And then they are in each other’s space, and he uses his other to brush a loose curl behind her ear and cradle her cheek, because he finally can. 

In a few moments this will be over and they will be forced to move on but right now he can feel the delicate skin beneath her eye and he can trace the line of beauty marks that he has loved since the moment he noticed them down her jaw to her chin and he can live in it. He can lean into her touch when she reaches out to brush his hair off his forehead and revel in the feeling of her knuckles moving from his chin down to his throat. They are so close but nothing else will happen here because they both, finally, understand. He brushes his thumb along the meat of her palm and he cannot stop himself from kissing her eyebrow. She leans into his lips and squeezes his hand harder and he knows it’s time to move away. 

He presses a kiss to her forehead and runs his thumb along her ear and moves back to his spot behind the wheel, but keeps his hand interlocked with hers. She moves her thumb against his and goes back to her own seat, takes her hand back into her lap, rests her head against her seat. She rolls her head to look at him and he has never felt such blinding pain in his life—she is so fucking beautiful and she is so close and so out of reach.

His stomach twists in on itself and he puts the car in drive and they move along, because it’s all that’s left to do.

*** — ***

Piper announces that Leo’s fire ban is lifted on the first of December, as an early Christmas gift. Percy has never seen him happier or more grateful—he literally falls to his knees and clings to her legs, promising her that there will be no more explosions on his watch. She just sighs and pats his head and then drops onto the floor beside him. 

"He's gonna burn us all to the ground, you fool," Thalia calls out, her words slurring together. "You two will be the death of us."

"Fuck off, white girl, this is Piper's decision," Leo shoots back. "Don't try to take this from her, too."

"What else have I taken?"

"My land. My livelihood. My liberty," Piper informs her.

"Aw fuck, sorry, man."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, bitch, I want reparations."

They have finally made it to the last stretch of tour, are slowly working their way through upstate New York before heading back down to the city. The show tonight was fucking phenomenal, and the band was so pumped up that they played two extra songs in their encore. The audience had lost their shit, the venue wasn’t very happy with them, and Percy got perhaps one of his favorite shots of the entire tour. The pit was going absolutely crazy, everyone jumping up and down and into each other and the band moving in perfect time with the crowd, all of them in the air at once (except Annabeth of course). 

They are coming down from that high in one of their hotel rooms, drinking and laughing and making far too much noise for the time of night. Percy is sitting against the closet doors with his arm wrapped around Grover when his phone rings and he knits his eyebrows in confusion as he picks it up.

“Hello?” he says as Annabeth passes by him, doing her best to navigate the mess of long legs and bodies strew across the floor.

He wants desperately to grab her and pull him into his side as he always does, or to reach out at all. Even just to trip her so she can curse him out or kick his shins—he’ll take anything he can get. But ever since that night in the van neither of them seems to be able to handle the contact; he hasn’t been able to hold a full conversation with her in over a week, and it is ruining him. She apologizes quietly as she moves past him and he pulls his feet in and tries not to stare but fails miserably because, well, it’s _her_. She doesn’t even look at him. He swallows hard and snuggles closer to Grover as she collapses between Leo and Piper and throws herself across their laps and Percy wishes he could be anywhere but here.

“Hey, Percy,” Frank says on the other line. “I’m sorry to call you so late, but—oh wow. It is loud. It’s so loud.”

“Sorry,” Percy says and pulls himself away from Grover, who pouts at the fact that he is now sitting alone. “Gimme a minute.”

He stands to leave and Reyna drunkenly boos him from where she rests on Thalia’s lap so he flips her off. He realizes for the first time that Hazel is watching him from the end of the bed, far too closely for his liking, and he tries to shake it off as he makes his way out of the room.

“Sorry,” he repeats once he makes it into the hall. “Better?”

“Yeah, much. Are you at a show or something?”

“No, everyone is just celebrating a really good night. Might as well be surrounded by 5,000 people, though.”

Frank laughs a bit.

“Anyway, I was just calling because—have you seen it yet?”

Percy knits his eyebrows in confusion as he leans against the wall.

“Seen what?” he asks.

“Nat Geo. They finally published our study. They did that blurb a few months back but now that all the analyses are in and we’ve been peer-reviewed they’ve done a whole spread about it.”

Percy’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead in surprise.

“Wow,” he says. “I had no idea. That’s incredible—congrats, Frank.”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s just…well. I don’t know how to say this.”

Percy frowns.

“Say what?”

“I noticed that they used your pictures. Like, almost all of them. I recognize them because you showed me them on the way back from our day out. You know. When you found the Dall.” 

Percy swallows hard. What Frank is saying quite literally impossible. There is no way it can be true. He is mistaken, simple as that. 

“Frank, that’s not possible,” Percy tells him. “I—those pictures were lost. I think you’re probably confused.”

“I’m not,” Frank insists. “Percy, those are your photos. And none of them are credited to you. All of them have Thompson’s name on them. Not a single Jackson in sight.”

Percy tries to calculate mentally how the fuck that is even possible, but he comes up short, perplexed. All of his negatives had been burned, his SD cards destroyed. At least, that’s what his old mentor told him. He knows for a fact all the film is gone, but could that rat bastard have kept Percy’s digital work? Aside from the fact that it seems physically unlikely, Percy can’t imagine why someone who hated what he did so much would _keep_ it. He had told Percy it was the worst work he’d ever seen, had yelled and punished him for two weeks, taking away all of his equipment. He had fucking—for fuck’s sake, he’d been locked in a goddamn dark room for it. What reason could that piece of shit possibly have to keep the work he hated so intensely, much less let it go to print? Why would he take credit for it himself?

Percy’s mind must be working very slowly today, because he cannot for the life of him figure it out.

“I don’t…” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Apparently this happens a lot,” Frank tells him. “I went on a trip in April with him and a freelancer, like with you. It was really short, less than a month. But they told me when it was published that he’d stolen all their work. He told Nat Geo it was all his—and the freelancer, his name’s Zain, he said that those were all his photos. He said Thompson took his SD cards and refused to give them back. And then his photos ended up in the magazine with Thompson’s name on them. And when he'd reached out to other people he knew who worked with him, they said the same thing.”

Percy’s mind is absolutely reeling as he tries to comprehend what he is hearing. He shuts his eyes and pushes his head back into the wall behind him, tries to stop his mind from racing. If what Frank is saying is true, then that means…that means there’s a pattern. That means there is a reason Percy was berated and taken control of and punished any time he tried to do his job as a photographer. And that reason was not that his work was of poor quality. In fact, it means quite the opposite.

“I was just wondering…did he ever do that to you? Did he take your stuff, maybe without you knowing? Like, you said those pictures were lost. But you never said how,” Frank says, and suddenly Percy’s head feels very foggy and light.

“He did,” Percy admits quietly, sinking down to the ground. “Yeah, that—yeah.”

Frank takes a deep breath, then.

“What a piece of shit,” he exhales, and Percy almost smiles. 

He has never heard Frank utter a single bad word about _anyone_ , ever. He feels a strong satisfaction at the fact that the first time he witnesses Frank talk shit about someone it is the one person who deserves it most. Mostly, though, he feels sick to his stomach, because he is not the only one.

“I can’t believe this,” Percy says, his head in his hands. “I just—what the fuck?”

“What are you going to do?” Frank asks, and Percy feels his mind spiral all over again. “Will you tell them the truth? I’m sure if both you and Zain came forward, if you both had similar experiences, plus all those other people—how could he contest that?”

Percy hears Frank's words but does not process them in the slightest. He is just doing his best to breathe and not allow himself to be consumed by the rage burning in his stomach at the realization of what has happened to him. 

“Frank, I have to go,” Percy mutters. “Sorry, I’ll talk to you—I’ll talk to you. Thanks for telling me.”

He hangs up, then, tries to turn off his brain. There are far too many thoughts in his head for his liking and absolutely none of them lead to anything good. He cradles his head in his hands and breathes deeply, five seconds in, seven seconds out, until the door opens and a cacophony of sound spills out into the hall. He shuts his eyes because he doesn’t even care to know who is witnessing him as he does his best to rein in the one emotion he cannot bear to express. He cannot and _will not_ allow himself to release the awful thing clawing its way out of his stomach and up to his chest, refuses to even think about it. 

And then someone is kneeling before him and forcing his head up and he blinks to find Grover crouched down, asking him repeatedly if he is alright. In all honesty, he has no fucking clue how to answer that question. He just knows he needs to get out before whatever is trying to take him over succeeds and he is left empty and broken and alone. 

Grover squeezes his knees and asks Percy to go get some fresh air outside with him and he feels himself standing up and walking along. He balls his fists as hard as he possibly can and feels a tension outside of his chest pushing it inward. This is not the vice. This is something far worse, far more dangerous. 

By the time they get outside and Grover leads Percy behind the hotel every single muscle in his body is tense and taught and he cannot stop himself from reaching up to the hair at the back of his head. Instinct, an old habit. A slimy, terrible slickness covering him from head to toe, suffocating him. A bowl and a folder and an innocent life trapped between and pure fucking outrage at the injustice of it all. And then—a pair of hands, working his own out of his hair, gentle and warm and steady.

He screams instead. He screams and screams until his throat is raw, lets out everything that has been building for the past twenty minutes, for the past week and a half, for every moment he has been holding himself back. Whenever he thinks he might be done it comes out again, and he lets it. He cannot fucking take it anymore. There is nothing left within him that can fight this. Tortured, for _months_. Under false pretenses. Under the guise that he was worthless and talentless and _deserved it_. Tortured, for years. Under circumstances all too similar, in ways far worse. And he fucking believed it all. 

He has always believed it, even when he’s forced himself to fight back against it. He is tired. He is so goddamn tired, and there is just no part of him that is willing to keep it together anymore. 

But with release comes remorse, comes the fear of losing control. He is left feeling the exact way he wished to avoid—sick from the tip of his tongue to the pit of his stomach, sour and bitter and absolutely vile. He is on the ground and he does not know how he got there and for the first time in a long time he is overcome with the overwhelming urge to sob. Choking and struggling for breath, he feels his chest heave and he knows that what comes next is inevitable.

He bends over as the sickness works its way out of his stomach, feels Grover rubbing his back and hears his voice very vaguely, but he is far too busy in his current state to take any comfort from it. Once again he feels his entire body tensed and taught but for an entirely different reason, and when it is over and he can breathe again and the taste of acid and bile overwhelms him, his muscles give out and he is so fucking weak. 

“Oh, Perce,” Grover mutters, pushing Percy’s hair back from his forehead. “We need to get you inside. Yeah?”

He waits for a few beats before responding, needs time to catch his breath. He is on his hands and knees in the middle of an empty back lot and the only thing keeping him upright is Grover’s hold on him. He takes one more deep breath and forces himself to sit up properly and Grover’s hands follow his movements, never breaking contact.

“I’m sorry,” Percy croaks, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

He swallows and tries to stop the tears from falling but he has already gone through two stages of release, so what is a third, really? He has never been more of a mess, has never felt so utterly drained of any fight. He only has one thought as Grover rubs his back and squeezes his hand, and he needs to get it out before it’s too late. Before he can convince himself that it is selfish and awful and wrong of him—because it is, and he knows this, but he just can't take it anymore.

“I think I need to go home,” he says quietly, and Grover nods as Percy looks at him.

“We’ll be there soon, just less than two weeks left,” Grover assures him, and Percy shakes his head.

“No, I have to go home, Grover. I need to go home now.”

A look of understanding passes over his best friend’s face, his eyes softening as he nods once more. Grover kisses Percy over the eyebrow and he is taken back to a pink sky and a warm cab and a decision that cut through him like jagged glass, and he cannot stop the tears from falling.

Before it’s too late, he needs to go home. Before he makes a decision that may or may not take him away from the one person in the world he loves more than anything else, he needs to see her.

Sally Jackson is the only one left who can help save him.

—

When Percy blinks open his eyes to the sunlight streaming in through his old bedroom window, for a moment he is utterly perplexed. He did not expect to wake up in his mother’s apartment, and he certainly does not know what to make of the fact that he can smell pancakes and hear a kettle as it whistles over the sound of Fairuz playing through an old set of speakers. As he stretches and groans, feels all his joints crack into place, he finally remembers that he is exactly where he needs to be. He shouldn’t be surprised at all, having arrived two days ago, but he chalks it up to the fact that the morning light is still orange and he is up far too early for his brain to process anything other than his desperate need to pee.

Rather than dwelling on that fact he gets up out of bed and immediately heads to the bathroom to wake up, wash his face, brush his teeth. He goes through all the motions groggily, eventually stumbles out into the hall where he can hear the music more clearly, [_Sa’alouni An-Naas_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVaALOAo8fg)crackling through the speakers. It’s the song his mother used to sing for him any time he left for a different boarding school, whenever they would part. She sang it for him the first time he ever left to build his portfolio, and every time after, and he can’t help but wonder if she already knows more than he does about the decision he will make despite not having told her anything about it.

_It hurts me to sing, my love_

_For the first time, we are not together_

He hears his mother singing in Arabic, louder than Fairuz herself, smiles widely as he enters their little kitchen to find her spinning around as she drops three teabags into their glass pot. When she turns around she is not fazed by the fact that he has appeared and she continues to sing as she dances towards him, pulling him in to spin around with her. He follows her lead, hums along, and she whacks his butt with the spatula in her hand to get him out of the way of the stove, where a blue pancake is ready to be flipped. He takes that as his cue to start setting the little table between the kitchen and the living room, grabs two plates, two forks, napkins. He finally registers that she has made eggs and _[qalayet bandora](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qalayet_bandora)_ as well, and his stomach grumbles as the timer on the oven goes off and he sees her pulling out a giant tray of bread. 

God, he’s missed this.

He kisses her head and squeezes her shoulder as he gathers the serving dishes and sets them on the table, then goes back and stacks the bread with his bare hands like a damn fool, forgetting that he doesn’t have his mother’s years of callouses and practice to protect the delicate flesh of his skin. He throws them in the air over and over again, cursing until he lands them perfectly in the center of the table. He looks over his shoulder to see if his mom was watching and finds her shaking her head at him, smiling far too fondly for her spatula-wagging to hold any heat. He grins and kisses her on the cheek.

Once she’s all done cooking, he grabs two teacups and adds a spoon of sugar to hers, four spoons to his. He pours the tea over top and lets it sit and settle before he brings the cups over to the table and stirs it in. 

“Need anything, Mama?” he asks before he sits, and she shakes her head and motions for him to have a seat. 

He takes her plate and starts putting her food before she can do it for him, and she gives him a scolding look as he does. He just piles up the food the way she always does for him until she whacks his arm, and he places a kiss on her head as he puts his own food and settles in.

“Blue pancakes,” he says. “What’s the occasion?”

“My only son has returned home to me,” she responds dramatically, grinning, and he smiles widely.

“I couldn’t take the tour food anymore,” he jokes. “The distance between your _[khubz](https://www.food.com/recipe/khubz-arabi-pita-or-flat-bread-348502)_ and my stomach was far too much to bear.”

She rolls her eyes at him fondly and they eat in silence for a few beats before she speaks up.

“Do you think we’ll talk about it today?” she asks him, holding her teacup close to her chest, and he swallows his mouthful of bread and tomatoes before answering.

“Talk about what?”

She gives him a stern look and he purses his lips. 

He made a promise to himself, months and months ago, that he would not burden her with his issues, that he would stand firm and strong and brave his struggles as she did, quietly, without complaint. He has failed on the latter account miserably, but he needs to maintain the former. He did not come home to bring his mother any more worry than she already carries. He just needed to be with her, in her space, spend real time with her that he has not had in far too long. He doesn’t want to add any more weight to her already heavy load.

“You pick,” she says, and he bites the inside of his cheek, stays quiet. “Okay,” she says slowly. “I’ll pick. Why’d you come home early?”

“I missed you.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“I’m not,” he insists. “I really did miss you.”

“Not enough to leave the tour early.”

“It’s not forever. Just a little break.”

She sends him a skeptical look and he frowns and looks down at his plate. Suddenly his appetite eludes him. He clears his throat.

“Kind of a lot was happening at once,” he tells her. “I got overwhelmed, is all.”

It’s not a total lie, but it’s obviously not enough. She knits her eyebrows in concern.

“What kind of overwhelmed?” she asks. “Anxious? Stressed? Angry?”

“That one.”

She exhales through her nose heavily and leans forward.

“You’ve never quite let yourself feel your anger,” she says. “Even when you were younger—all those fights you got into. You’d been holding back and holding back until you just—”

“Exploded,” he mutters quietly, looking down at her hands. “I know.”

“I know you’re afraid of it, _hayati_ ,” she says gently, reaching across the table and holding her palm out. He takes her hands in his and they breathe for a second. “But you have nothing to be afraid of. Anger isn’t inherently bad. Emotions have no value. Maybe it makes us feel like shit, but it’s not bad or good—it just is.” 

He looks up at her, then, sees how wide and warm and kind her eyes are. He wishes he could convey as much as she does with one look, but his mother is on an entirely different plane. She is everything good in the world, all the things that make you feel warm and loved and safe. Smile lines surround her eyes, despite how little she’s ever had to smile about. Dark skin crinkled around darker eyes surrounded by even darker hair and a face that shines brighter than the sun. She squeezes his hands and he _feels_ it, down to his bones.

“Emotions are not bad or good,” she says. “But our behavior, what we _do_ with them—that’s what makes the difference.” He nods and she knits her eyebrows. “Did your anger harm anyone? Including yourself?”

“I think I scared Grover,” he mutters, and she nods. “I feel bad about that.”

“You apologized?” He nods. “I’m sure he understands.”

He nods again and swallows hard and she frowns.

“ _Habibi_ ,” she mutters, brushing her thumb over his eyebrow, and he shuts his eyes. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna get through it together, alright? Like always. Me and you.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s not your problem, Mama, it’s mine,” he says. “I can’t—I’ll deal with it. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“Percy, look at me.” 

He does, and he sees how firmly her face is set in determination. He doesn’t know why he ever thought he could keep anything from her when she looks at him like that. It’s been a hopeless cause from the start.

“I worry about you every second of the day,” she tells him. “I don’t care if you have never had a single trouble your entire life—I am always thinking about you. It’ll be easier for everyone if you just talk to me, okay? Don’t shut me out. We’re a family. It’s only me and you. We have to lean on each other.”

He sniffles and nods and she brushes his curls back from his forehead. He gets goosebumps as she does, leans into her hand. All it takes is that one motion to warm his sorry heart, to make him remember exactly who he is and why he is here. It’s okay to lean on the people you love. It’s okay to ask for help, to accept it. He feels more than hears what she is trying to convey, and for a second, the pressure in his chest lets up. 

So when she says,

“You need a haircut. That’s what we’ll do today,” he smiles a bit, and relents.

“Fine. But I get to pick the music.”

She makes a face.

“Hmph. We’ll see about that.”

It’s later, when they’ve set up shop in the middle of their small living room, and Percy feels his mother’s hands run through his hair, that he finally manages to speak up.

“So, I got this offer,” he begins slowly, and he feels her hands hesitate before she continues combing through his curls. 

“And?” she prompts.

“It’s crazy. It’s actually insane—I couldn’t. I don’t know. It’s 18 months. That’s way too long, isn’t it?”

“It depends,” she tells him. “18 months of what? Shoveling horse shit? Living in the lap of luxury? We need context, here.”

He laughs a bit.

“Antarctica. Climate research, measuring the rate of ice cap melting, the health of animals in the area. It’s a massive project, for some Danish ecological foundation.”

“Antarctica? You mean the place you’ve wanted to go since you were 10?”

He purses his lips.

“That’s the one,” he mutters quietly.

“Anything else?”

“I’d be on Frank’s team. He’s really great, and I trust him. But he wouldn’t get there until four months in—they’d want me there from the jump.”

“Are you comfortable going without him?”

Percy shrugs. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never gone into a job knowing the people I’d be working with before. Frank’s just an added bonus, I guess.”

“Hm. Sounds like a big decision.”

He groans. 

“Mama, please,” he begs. “Tell me what to do.”

She pokes his shoulder with the comb.

“That’s not my job, _hayati_.”

“Oh, so you can tell me what to do when I try to free the lobsters at Fairway but when I need it most suddenly it's not your job? How convenient.”

She laughs and shoves his head forward and he sighs heavily.

“I’m gonna go, aren’t I?” he asks quietly, and she plants a kiss at the top of his head.

“Sounds like it.”

He turns around, then.

“It’s not too crazy? You don’t think it’s too long? I mean, a year and a half—Mama, that’s forever.”

“It’s not forever,” she tells him, then knits her eyebrows as she examines his hair from the front and snips a curl off the top of his head. She meets his eyes again. “If I remember correctly the first time you ever left it was a year and a half.”

He frowns and she turns him back around in his seat.

“Yeah, but that was all different places. This is just…one place. For so long.”

“Oh, so this is about your commitment issues.”

“I do not have commitment issues!”

“Could have fooled me,” she sings, and he pouts and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I don’t. I have anxiety. There’s a difference.”

“Well, anxiety or not, I think it’s time you make a real decision, Percy.” 

She walks around to get a good look at the front of his head and holds his face in her hands. They are warm and wet from his hair and the cold metal of the shears presses into his cheek as he frowns. She smiles softly and kisses his nose.

“You’ve been through so much, _hayati_. Nothing has come easy to you, ever. You have worked for everything you’ve ever gotten, and you’ve done it in some— _ya Allah_ , just some terrible situations.” She looks down. “I know I’m to blame for a lot of that—”

“Mama, no—”

“Sh. I am. I had to make difficult decisions for us. To survive. _You’ve_ had to make difficult decisions to survive.” She shakes her head. “We’re not there anymore, _habibi_ , we’re past it now. We have to _live_ , do you understand? It’s not about getting by anymore, it’s about living our lives and taking care of ourselves and _choosing._ For so long, we didn’t have that freedom—we were forced to do what we had to just to get through. But now, now that you get to decide what’s best, what’s going to make you happiest, you can’t take it for granted. Only you can do this. Only you can make this choice. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

He feels his eyes fill with tears as he nods and she presses a kiss to his forehead, holds him close. He shuts his eyes and breathes and feels her long hair tickling his cheek, lets the strange mix of rose water and cocoa butter fill his nose with memories like these. When he needed to be set straight, needed to hear hard truths or apologies or be assured of her love. He doesn’t doubt it, never has—it’s never been her that he has doubted, but himself. He doubts every day that he is worthy of the love she gives him so freely, with her entire heart and soul. 

At the end of the day, it’s never been the people who put him down or called him worthless or hurt him that he has been trying to prove wrong. Each and every day he wakes up he struggles and fights to prove his mother _right_. He longs to be the man she believes he is, strives towards it in his every waking moment. Everything he does, he does for her. To make her proud. To show her that her faith in him is not misplaced, that she never has to doubt him. His biggest fear in the world, the thing that keeps him up at night, that gnaws at him constantly, wraps itself around his heart and clamps down until he cannot feel anything but the pressure, is that he will never live up to those standards. That he will somehow disappoint her, leave her wondering where she went wrong.

It’s a fear he has carried with him since the first time he ever got sent to the principal’s office, since the moment he realized he would never be able to read on his own, since he first realized that Gabe was not just hurting him, but her, too. It has dictated his every move, held him back in the worst of times and propelled him forward at the best. And he knows he will never be able to let it go. 

She leaves him with one last kiss between the eyebrows and gets back to work, combing and clipping, and he takes a deep breath. If he can’t let it go, he thinks, then he needs to work with it. There is no use in fighting it when he knows it will never leave him—it’s time to take control of the situation. To use that fear to his advantage, to let it motivate him and build him up. It is time to make that choice.

He doesn’t know if it’s the fact that she is a mother or the fact that she is _his_ mother or the fact that she is just Sally fucking Jackson, but she always, _always_ knows exactly what to say, exactly how to light a fire under his ass to get him to the place he needs to be. She hums along to [Mohammed Assaf](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mohammed_Assaf) as she finishes up with his hair and he feels a deep-seated appreciation of her take root in his belly. He feels that tenderness fill up the empty space, relishes in the feeling of it as it expels the heavy nothingness, at least for right now. 

He is finally home, finally exactly where he needs to be. For the first time in a very long time, he knows exactly where he will choose to go next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've changed the number of chapters for the story and it may or may not change again. Either there will be one last chapter and then an epilogue OR there will be two more chapters and an epilogue. This all depends on whether or not I feel I have reached a satisfying conclusion in a reasonable number of words (yikes). Hopefully my cursed hands will not lead me astray.  
> Again, thank you all for reading! It truly means so much!


	12. all that was shown to me was something foreknown to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 Recap if you skipped: Percy’s old mentor stole all his photos and published them with his credit, Frank informs Percy that this is a pattern and he knows many people who have gone through this so Percy needs to make a Choice, Percy and Annabeth have been avoiding each other since Massachusetts, they’re both dumb and sad (what else is new)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write nearly 12k words again? Why yes, yes I did:  
> -Chapter contains references to past trauma, references to autoimmune disease and disability  
> -I have no other content warnings and I am in utter shock  
> -Chapter title is from the song Sunlight by Hozier  
> I'll take the 15 lines I usually use to say thank you so much for reading this far! I love every last one of you to bits and your support means so, so much! Thank you thank you thank you!!!  
> Happy reading!

_December_

Percy leaves his mother’s place for Albany four days after his arrival, and she sends him off with a shopping bag full of homemade bread, three Tupperwares of hummus, and a giant container that is nearly the length of his arm span filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. When he gapes at her and asks her where she expects him to put it all, she pats his cheek and says, “up your ass,” then sends him on his way with a kiss on the forehead.

So he makes his way downtown to the Port Authority bus terminal with his arms full of food that he knows for a fact the band and crew will devour as soon as they get their grubby hands on it. Sally also packed him a special thank-you gift for Clarisse, a set of embroidery threads that are apparently notoriously difficult to work with. But Percy’s mother had asked him to let Clarisse know that after seeing what a beautiful job Clarisse had done on her _thobe_ , she had no doubt in her mind of his friend’s abilities. He is half-excited at what Clarisse might say and half-scared shitless—he decides to focus on the excited part, does his best for the entirety of his trip upstate to hone in on that emotion alone.

He is still scared shitless, though.

Not just of Clarisse, but of everyone. Particularly Hazel. He feels horribly guilty for up and leaving so suddenly, especially when they didn’t have a replacement photographer. As he was leaving, he could not stop apologizing, until she finally got so fed up with him that she literally smacked her hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“I don’t give a shit about some stupid pictures, Percy,” she had told him. “I only care about you. Go home. Rest. Come back when you’re ready.”

And that had been that. He hadn’t missed the way her eyes averted his, though, the obvious conflict in her face that told him she had more to say to him. He is absolutely dreading whatever conversation might come next, only because he has no idea what to expect. He has a sharp, foreboding feeling that it cannot be anything good.

When he finally makes it to the venue, he heads straight to the greenroom in the hopes that he might find Hazel alone. He just needs to get whatever it is she has to talk about over with, before it eats him alive.

And it must be his lucky day because what he wishes for is exactly what he gets. When he walks into the room, his arms and back aching, Hazel is hanging upside down on the couch, her head nearly touching the floor. She knits her eyebrows when she sees him, perplexed, and then she just does a flip until she lands on her feet and turns to face him.

“You’re here,” she breathes, her hands clasped in front of her.

He swallows and nods, nearly drops all the stuff in his arms, and she rushes over to help him. Once everything is set down and settled he lowers his bag to the floor at his feet.

“Jesus, my arms are gonna fall off,” he exhales, and she purses her lips.

They look at each other and for a horrible moment he thinks they might leave it there, that she will leave the room and they will never mend whatever rift has formed between them. The thought stirs up a horrible fear in his belly that spurs him to action.

“Hazel—” he tries at the same time she says,

“Percy—”

And then they kind of fling themselves at each other and he wraps her up in a hug so tight he thinks he might break her. But she hugs him twice as hard as he lifts her up in the air, and he takes comfort in the feeling of it, of the familiarity in the midst of such uncertainty.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” she mumbles into his neck. “I was so worried about you.”

He exhales heavily and buries his face in her hair, which he finally realizes is back in her natural state, braids removed. Her curls tickle his nose but he just does not give a shit.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“ _You’re_ sorry?” she responds, pulling back from him.

It’s a bit difficult considering he is holding her up in the air, but they manage.

“Ugh, put me down, fool,” she says, so he does, and she straightens herself out. “I should be the one apologizing to you, Percy. I’m so sorry.”

He knits his eyebrows in confusion.

“ _What_?” he asks. “What the fuck do you have to be sorry about?”

She bites her lip.

“I thought—maybe—I don’t know. Maybe I pushed you too hard, like, to get back into photography or—I don’t know. I don’t know. I just feel…wretched. Awful. Terrible.”

He shakes his head and holds her shoulders.

“You have nothing to feel wretchedawfulterrible about,” he assures her. “I’m the one that left. I’m sorry.”

She rolls her eyes at him and hugs him around the torso again.

“Shut up. No more apologies,” she demands, and he nods and kisses the top of her head.

“Okay. But just one more,” he says, and she pulls back to look up at him, her eyebrows knit. “I have to tell you something important.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” she says, and he gapes at her.

“How the _fuck_.”

“Frank,” she admits. “He told me he talked to you about something and you seemed really upset. You said you’d call him back but you never did, so he got worried.”

He frowns, thrown off-track for a moment.

“Frank doesn’t have your number.”

She purses her lips and it seems as though she is doing her best to suppress a smile, and his jaw drops.

“Hazel Levesque,” he says. “You let that man slide into your DMs.”

She raises her eyebrows and starts to turn around slowly, but he grabs her around the shoulders and pulls her into his chest.

“You deserve as much,” he mutters, and she rolls her eyes at him as she pulls back.

“This is so not about me right now,” she tells him, and holds onto his shoulders as she shakes him. “Percy! You’re going to Ant-fucking-arctica! This is your dream! Why are you not losing your shit right now?”

He knits his eyebrows and exhales a heavy breath and a look of realization comes over her face. It quickly turns to disbelief, then annoyance, and she punches him in the shoulder so hard he actually winces.

“Hazel, what the fuck?” he complains, rubbing the spot.

“You are _not_ turning down this opportunity, Percy Jackson,” she tells him, hands on her hips. “You are not going to let your guilt or your fear or whatever other bullshit hold you back from realizing your childhood dream. Do you know how many people would die for an opportunity to do exactly that they’ve wanted to since they were kids? Are you out of your mind? Has your brain finally shriveled up and fallen out your ear? What’s wrong with you?”

His jaw drops in offense, then, and he has to force an angry scowl onto his face before he bursts into laughter and ruins his momentum.

“What the _fuck_?” he says, and shoves her. “I’m going, bitch, you don’t have to be so rude about it.”

She blinks at him, then.

“You’re going?” she asks uncertainly, and he grimaces at her.

“Yeah, and I was gonna tell you all about it and ask if you want to come with me to Canada to meet with the team after tour's over, but I guess my shriveled up brain was confused.”

“No, Percy, please—”

“Eat my ass, Levesque, you’re not getting any of Sally’s cookies.”

She gasps.

“Percy! Don’t do this! I’m begging you!”

He breaks, then, smiles widely, and she glares at him and smacks his arm.

“I thought you were actually upset, you rude bitch,” she breathes out shakily, half-laughing. “How could you threaten to withhold Sally’s cookies from me? That’s so cruel.”

“You deserved it,” he laughs, and she purses her lips.

“Perhaps I was a bit harsh,” she concedes. “But I was sick of your wishy-washy bullshit. You’re going?” He nods. “Oh my God, you’re really going.” He smiles and squeezes her hands and she knits her eyebrows. “So why aren’t you pumped up?”

He purses his lips.

“Oh,” she says quietly. “Is it because you’re like super in love with Annabeth?”

He thinks his eyes might pop out of his head as he gapes at her, speechless. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to respond, but he has no words. How in the hell does she know absolutely _everything_? It’s so unfair.

“What—how—I do not—shit, man,” he stutters. “What the fuck?”

She knits her eyebrows and pulls him over to the couch and they sit together, knees knocking against each other’s. She hasn’t let go of his hands.

“I should’ve known earlier,” she says, looking almost apologetic. “I was so dumb. It took me ’til whatever weird shit happened between you guys that day in Boston to figure it out. I was so blind.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m not…I mean…I’m not _in love_ with her,” he says. “That feels a bit extreme.”

“Well, it isn’t. You are. Pretty sure she’s in love with you, too, if the way she’s been sulking all week means anything.”

He continues to stare at her, mouth agape, and she rolls her eyes and lifts his jaw, closing his mouth for him.

“Oh, stop,” she says. “It’s not like you weren’t glaringly obvious about it.”

“I just—I don’t know what to say,” he admits. “I’m so sorry, Hazel. I should’ve told you sooner. I just—there was no point, you know? Nothing could’ve happened there.”

“Because of me?” she asks quietly, looking down at their hands, and he swallows and squeezes her fingers.

“Not because of you,” he tells her. “Because of me.”

She looks up at him then, and he shakes his head. He is telling her nothing but the truth. He is not doing this because of Hazel—he is doing this because he chooses to, because it’s what’s was best for them at the time. He made his decision a long time ago, and he realizes with a start that he’s been doing it all along, actively making this choice. Another step in the right direction—he has chosen his path, and now he is following it. Despite how fucking heartbroken he is, he can’t deny that that realization makes something inside of him click into place, as if there was a loose part rattling around in his chest wreaking havoc and now it has settled, and he can breathe a little easier.

“No part of me could ever do something like that to you,” he says. “I don’t give a shit how uncertain you are. I don’t care if you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how you feel. I am not going to get in the way of something that can make you really happy.”

He realizes for the first time that Hazel has tears in her eyes, and he knits his eyebrows and wipes one away as it falls down her cheek.

“Percy,” she croaks, shaking her head. “You can’t—you shouldn’t—God, what’s wrong with you?”

She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him so tightly that he nearly chokes, but he hugs her back just the same, shuts his eyes. Maybe he’s struggling with a few tears himself. It’s been a rough week.

“Why do you have to love me so much?” she sniffles. “I don’t—I don’t deserve all the love you have to give me. I’m not good enough for it.”

He shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he says firmly and pulls back to look at her. He wipes her face for her and she does the same for him, sniffling. “You’re more than good enough. You are the best person in the world. You’re my sister, you big dumb idiot.” She laughs a bit and he smiles, cups her cheeks in his hands. “There’s no one else in the world I’d rather give it to. It’s you and me, kid. It’s us.”

She swallows and nods and wipes at a tear that’s trailed its way down his chin.

“It’s us,” she agrees, and buries her face in his chest. “I love you to Pluto and back.”

“I love you to Pluto and back, bitch.”

She laughs a bit and shoves him away from her and he grins.

“You don’t have to do this, Percy,” she tells him. “There’s no point. She’s like, crazy in love with you. You should be with her, I won’t care I promise—please. You should tell her.”

He sighs and twists a loose curl back from her face. He knows she means what she is saying, knows that whatever might happen next would not hurt her. But it all feels futile, now.

“It’s too late now,” he mutters.

She knits her eyebrows, looking absolutely tortured, her face mirroring exactly how he feels after he says the words out loud. It is too late for anything, now that he will be leaving. Anything he might do from here on out would be selfish. How could he tell Annabeth he is in love with her and then disappear for a year and a half? It would be cruel, crueler than what he has already done. Percy smooths the crinkle in Hazel’s forehead over for her and sniffles a bit.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.

“Don’t break my heart, then.”

He frowns at her and she swallows.

“You deserve to be happy, Percy. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

He smiles softly and kisses her forehead and tucks her head into his neck. They sit like that for a few moments, breathing together, and the matter is settled. She is right. He deserves to be happy. But telling Annabeth how he feels is not going to do that for him—in fact, he thinks it might do the exact opposite. There are far too many obstacles in their way, far too many things keeping them apart. They have some truly terrible timing, it seems. Maybe one day that will change, but for now, it’s all too much.

“Perhaps you were right about the guilt and the fear and the whatever other bullshit holding me back,” he admits after a while, and she pulls back from him to give him a stern look. “I know. I know. I’m working on it. I promise.”

And he means it.

“You’d better,” she says, hugging him around the middle. “Someone’s gotta take pictures of all those humpbacks.”

“And penguins,” he adds, smiling widely. “And seals. And blue whales.”

“The blue whales!” she exclaims, pulling back and holding onto his hands. She bounces in her seat a little. “The blue whales, Percy, the blue fucking whales!”

He laughs a bit, and it finally hits him, that he will be doing this. He will really be leaving to do the one thing in the world he has always longed for. He feels the excitement bubble up out of his chest as he laughs with her, lets it overtake the nerves and the doubts and whatever other bullshit, as Hazel had put it. Right now he can be happy. Right now, as Hazel forces him to jump up and down with her and scream about sea mammals, he can live in this feeling.

That is, until they are interrupted by none other than Annabeth Chase herself. They both stop immediately, Hazel giggling wildly, and he feels his face flush with heat as Annabeth stares at them.

“Did I miss a party or something?” she asks, half-smiling, and Percy swallows.

“Percy has the best news ever!” Hazel exclaims excitedly, and then she looks at him and the smile drops off her face.

She clears her throat.

“Right,” she says uncomfortably. “Uh, I’m gonna go…sing at Thalia ’til she tries to kill me.”

Hazel exits the room, then, and Percy kind of wishes she would stay, looks at the back of her head desperately, trying to plead with her not to go telepathically. Tragically, her hair is far too thick for the message to get through. 

It is just Percy and Annabeth, then, and he hasn’t been alone with her in so long that he forgets how to act. They kind of just stand there awkwardly and he feels his heart flop around and run itself into a brick wall and he can’t contain himself any longer, so he closes the distance between them and grabs her up in a hug, burying his nose in her hair. She freezes at first, unsure, but then she wraps her arms around his neck and holds him tightly, sighing out a breath of relief. Once again, as if something had been out of place inside of him, lost and trying to find its way home, everything settles exactly where it needs to be, and he breathes deeply for a few moments, basking in the feeling. It's as though he had been standing out in the cold and now he's found a patch of sunlight to warm his frostbitten skin. It is comfort in the face of agony, and he can't get enough of it, of her.

“I really missed you,” he mutters quietly. “Even before I left.”

He feels her nod against his shoulder, her cold nose tickling his neck.

“I missed you too,” she whispers. “Let’s never do that again, okay?”

He nods and holds her for a second longer, can’t bring himself to let her go just yet. He needs more time, just the slightest bit, before he knows they’ll have to part once more. This time, at least, he knows that a terrible distance and an aching pain will not follow.

Well. Maybe they will. But it will be easier to bear, because he will know they won’t have to worry about losing each other again. When he finally releases her, she smiles up at him warmly, her eyes shining, and then she punches him in the shoulder.

“Stupid bitch,” she says. “You scared us all shitless. Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?”

He frowns and rubs the spot.

“I didn’t know what to even tell,” he says. “God, why do you punch like you’re trying to take me out?”

She grins, then.

“Because I am.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t really have to hit me for that to happen.”

She raises her eyebrows, grinning.

“No?” He shakes his head. “What do I have to do instead?”

“Just stand there and look pretty, baby.”

She tries to suppress her smile but fails miserably, and they stand together for a moment, grinning like a couple of fools before he remembers what he must tell her. But the thought of it, right now, when he’s just gotten back to her, when everything is set right again—he can’t bring himself to speak the words aloud. The timing just isn’t right.

That’s what he tells himself, as she rolls her eyes and grabs his hand and drags him out into the hall with her. It’s the timing, and nothing more. He ignores the twisting in his chest as she squeezes his hand in a familiar rhythm, one that has quickly become their own, and he squeezes hers right back.

Bad timing, is all. He’ll find a better way soon. For now he just needs to savor the feeling of her rough palm against his a bit longer, needs to let the sunlight soak him down to the bone, before it all slips away from him again.

—

Hazel’s birthday happens to fall on the last day of tour, the night the band will finally fulfill their dream of playing Madison Square Garden. They have come full circle over the past nine months, have found themselves back where they first began, and Percy can’t help but think about how much has changed. They are all together in the greenroom before the show begins, taking in the moment, letting themselves truly _feel_ the significance of it all. Because they are all hyperactive maniacs with zero impulse control their moment of silence lasts for about three seconds before everyone starts yelling over each other and doing vocal exercises and laughing. Percy smiles widely from his spot beside Hazel, and he cannot believe that he ever felt out of place amongst them all. He went from feeling left behind to finding a family here, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to comprehend just how lucky he is to have them.

The Stoll brothers get called to head out onto stage to open the show and they both look about ready to puke. Everyone follows them out to side-stage, gives them each their own version of a pep talk at once, all their words running over each other’s. Connor actually slaps his hand over Annabeth’s mouth and Percy thinks she must bite his palm, because he pulls away quickly, shaking his hand out as if he is in pain. She smiles, satisfied, gives him a kiss on the cheek and a whack to the back of the head, and then the brothers are heading out onto stage being welcomed by the roar of 20,000 people. Percy’s eyes widen in time with the band’s, and they all look at each other, shocked at the fact that they have made it here.

“Holy shit,” Thalia breathes out. “Holy shit. What have we done?”

She turns to Piper with pleading eyes.

“Cancel the show, we’re not going out there,” she says, and Percy cannot believe that she is actually nervous.

“Shut up, you’re going and you’re gonna be incredible,” Piper tells her, holding onto her shoulders. “Do not let a little arena be the end of you. You are Thalia fucking Grace. The entire world fears you. You will not kowtow to stage fright.”

Thalia swallows a bit and nods, her blue eyes wide and afraid, and then she smacks her hand over her mouth and runs down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Oh, fuck,” Reyna mutters. “I’m gonna go make sure she doesn’t try to climb out the window after she’s done puking.”

Percy knits his eyebrows in concern, checks his phone for the umpteenth time that night. He is expecting two special guests to share the occasion with the band, as a surprise for Hazel, and for moral support. His phone gets ripped out of his hand and he looks up at Hazel in shock.

“What the fuck, man?” he says.

“Thalia really freaked me out. I’m gonna barf,” she says desperately.

He shakes his head and holds onto her arms.

“You’re gonna be fine, okay? You’ve got this. If anyone is capable of going out there and singing all those punk nerds to death, it’s you. You have the voice of an angel and the stage presence of a goddamned legend. Do not let Thalia of all people throw you off.”

She swallows and nods and he glances over her shoulder and smiles widely once he sees Grover leading Frank and his mother down the hall to them.

“Also, happy birthday please don’t be mad at me I love you forever,” he says, his words running into each other, and Hazel’s eyes widen.

“Percy, what did you do?”

He spins her around in time for Sally to reach them, her arms open wide for a hug, and Hazel squeals and throws herself into his mother’s arms.

“Mama, you’re _here_!” she exclaims. “Oh my God, this is the best day of my life.” She pulls back and looks Sally over. “You’re wearing it! This is incredible!”

Sally has gone for quite the look tonight, donning a shirt that Percy hates with a burning passion and Hazel loves to death. One Mother’s Day when Percy was ten and Hazel was eight, he’d somehow let her convince him that Sally would love a shirt with their faces on it. Hazel had gotten her mother to take them to the mall where they had a truly terrible picture taken of them in a musty photobooth, with Percy’s eyes half-shut and his plump babyface rounder than the moon and Hazel’s smile so wide and blinding you could see her gums. The photo was blown up to a truly disgusting size, taking up almost the entirety of the front of the shirt, and surrounding it in hideous script were the words “We Love Our Mom.” And here, for all the world to see, Sally is wearing it once more. Percy groans as Hazel bounces on her heels excitedly, and Sally holds Hazel’s cheeks gently.

“I had to show my support somehow,” she says, and Hazel’s smile now is somehow even wider than the one on the shirt.

“I fuckin’ love you, Sally,” Hazel responds, and Sally laughs.

“I fuckin’ love you, _habibti_.”

She kisses Hazel’s forehead and it seems as though Hazel finally becomes aware of Frank’s presence behind Sally. Her eyes widen and her face drops, and Frank smiles nervously and gives her an awkward wave.

“Hi,” he greets. “Hope it’s okay I’m here. Percy told me—”

And then she flings herself at him, hugging him around his middle. He is thrown off for a moment, his arms freezing in place, but then he moves to hug her back and he smiles widely, his cheeks flushing pink.

Sally moves over to Percy, then, and he hugs her tightly, buries his nose in the top of her head. Rose water and cocoa butter and home. He breathes it in while he still can.

“Hi, Mama,” he greets, and she squeezes him tighter.

“Hi, _hayati_ ,” she says. “I have a confession to make." She pauses for a beat. "I accidentally killed your fish.”

He pulls back to stare at her in horror, and she looks so nervous that he nearly laughs despite how upset he is.

“Oh God,” he says. “Which one?”

“Triton.”

He feels a bit guilty for the relieved sigh that whooshes out of him.

“Oh, that’s okay. He was a dick to Little Hazel anyway. It was his time.”

“Sally!” Piper yells, and she shoves Percy directly into Annabeth to hug his mother.

He apologizes for nearly knocking her into a lighting rig and she laughs a bit and squeezes his arm.

“No biggie,” she says, and she looks over at Sally nervously. “Is it bad that I’m more scared to meet your mom than to play this show right now?”

He smiles widely.

“Nah, she’s kind of a big deal,” he tells her, and her eyes widen in fear. “Kidding! I’m kidding. She’s the nicest woman alive. Plus, you’ve met her over FaceTime already. She had nothing but good things to say about you after.”

“Really?” Annabeth asks hopefully, and he nods.

“Really, really. She wouldn’t stop talking about how perfect you are.”

She blushes but smiles nonetheless and he bites the inside of his cheek as he looks at her, can’t help but agree with his mother. Everything about her is just so fucking breathtaking, and he just can’t wrap his head around the fact that she is actually standing beside him right now. His thoughts are interrupted when Sally clears her throat and he looks up to find both her and Piper looking at him pointedly. He feels his cheeks grow hot and rubs the back of his neck.

“Mama, this is Annabeth,” he says. “Annabeth, this is my mom, Sally.”

Annabeth looks about ready to join Thalia in the bathroom, but Sally just smiles at her warmly, reaching out her hands. Annabeth takes them and Sally steps closer, looking her over.

“My goodness, you’re even more beautiful in person,” she says, and Annabeth blushes a deep red.

“Thank you,” she responds, her voice a little shaky. “You—I—oh God.”

She closes her mouth and Sally laughs and pulls her in for a hug, wraps her arms around her and lets Annabeth rest her head on her shoulder despite the fact that Sally is the shorter of the two. Over Annabeth’s shoulder she mouths at Percy to “marry her already” in Arabic, and he widens his eyes and motions with his hand for her to cut it out. She sticks her tongue out at him and pulls back from Annabeth, cups her cheek in one hand.

“And so talented,” Sally continues, practically cooing, and Percy covers his face with his hands. “So intelligent, and creative, too, I’ve heard.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Percy interjects as he steps in next to his mom, and Annabeth raises her eyebrows at him.

“No I wanna hear more about what you’ve told your mom about me,” she says, suddenly perfectly fine, and Sally winks at her.

“Oh, honey, I could write a novel about it,” Sally tells her, and Percy wishes for a moment that he could disappear and never return as Annabeth’s eyebrows somehow shoot even higher up her forehead and she smiles at Percy like she’s just won the lottery.

“This is incredible,” she says, and Percy sighs heavily.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he grumbles.

“You’ll get over it, baby,” his mother tells him, patting him on the cheek. “Right now I have to ask Annabeth about her taste in music. I hear you like Umm Kulthum?”

And he can pretend like what is happening here bothers him, but it would be a complete lie. He hasn’t been happier to see two people bond since he (re)introduced Hazel and Grover for the first time. He feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders, watching the two of them together. Piper sidles up next to him and smirks at him smugly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I fuckin’ _called it_ ,” she says triumphantly. “Did I not fucking call it? Week three? That was all me, bitch.”

“Fuck off,” Percy responds, but he’s grinning. “It’s not like—”

He takes a deep breath and knits his eyebrows and Piper seems to realize exactly what it’s not like. She frowns and squeezes his hand and he squeezes hers back right in time for Jason to come running up to them, Nico trailing behind him, looking like his emo son. Percy smiles widely and waves at Nico happily, and Nico sends him a small smile before he gets tackled into a wall by Hazel.

“Sorry—traffic—Thalia—where?” Jason heaves as he reaches Percy and Piper, and Piper stares at him.

“Bathroom,” she tells him. “Stage fright.”

He looks utterly perplexed at that as he knits his eyebrows.

“ _Thalia_? _Thalia_ has stage fright?” Piper nods and he frowns. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Here I am,” Thalia calls as she walks down the hallway hand-in-hand with Reyna. “I yarfed and then made out with my wife and now I feel great.”

Percy grimaces along with Jason and Reyna raises her eyebrow at them challengingly, as if daring them to say something about it. Thalia hugs her brother tightly, rests her head on his chest, and Percy has never seen her look so tender before. He juts out his lower lip at the sight of it, because she looks almost sweet, and he cannot wrap his mind around it.

“Take a picture, Jackson, it’ll last longer,” Thalia snaps at him, back to her old self, and he grins and lifts up his camera.

“That’s what I’m here to do,” he says, and she rolls her eyes and flips him off as he gets the shot.

He actually manages to get quite a few photos that night which he plans on keeping for the rest of his life. Annabeth and his mother, heads inclined towards each other, talking together animatedly. Hazel introducing Nico to Frank, the height difference between the siblings and Frank so absurd that it almost makes Percy laugh. Thalia and Reyna telling Piper and Jason that it’s time to bury the past and just date already, Piper’s face the perfect mixture of mortification, rage, and just a bit of amusement, Jason’s entire head turned bright red. He loses track of time trying to capture all the memories being formed in those moments, until Hazel tugs on his arm and takes his camera down from his face.

“Live in the moment, dummy,” she tells him and he blows a raspberry at her but does as she says.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, ruffling Nico’s hair and resting his hand on Nico’s head. Nico tries to swat his hand away but Percy pinches his neck gently.

“Stop, you missed me, you love me, just admit it so we can all move on,” Percy says, and Nico grimaces at him.

“I will murder you where you stand,” he threatens, and Percy smiles widely.

“I love you, too, babe,” he says, and Nico huffs and puffs but finally holds onto Percy’s outstretched hand.

“Bitch,” Nico grumbles, and Percy smiles widely.

Once the Stolls step off the stage there is a rush to clear it out and set it up for Demi’s performance. The crew works quickly and efficiently to get everything in order, and in the lulls Leo and Silena appear to wish everyone good luck. Before they can leave Reyna gathers everyone in a big circle, including all their guests, and they stand off to the side of the stage with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. Percy is in between Hazel and his mom, and they all circle in tighter until their heads almost touch.

“These past nine months have been…interesting,” Reyna says, and Percy grins. “We fought, we yelled, we nearly killed each other—”

“Uh, I think you’re supposed to talk about the good times,” Piper interrupts.

“That’s stupid,” Reyna responds simply. “Obviously we all remember the good times. I’m trying to make a speech here, you rude b—”

“Maybe get back to that speech now?” Leo suggests.

Reyna glares at him but takes a deep breath.

“As I was _saying_ ,” she continues. “Being around each other for such a long period of time, in such close quarters, it makes you think about how much you wish murder was legal. But there’s no one else I’d rather consider risking life in prison for. I love you all. I’m glad Thalia hid my axe.”

Everyone is dead quiet for a moment until they hear someone sniffle, and Percy looks up to find Clarisse wiping a tear from her eye.

“That was so beautiful, Reyna,” she says, and Reyna reaches out and places her hand on Clarisse’s head.

“Thank you.”

Percy bursts into laughter, then, unable to contain himself, and the rest of them finally break and laugh as well. Reyna steps back and looks at them all incredulously, like she can’t believe they’re laughing at her after such a heartfelt speech, and Thalia kisses her wife on the cheek.

“What the fuck?” Reyna says, and Jason pats her shoulder.

“No, guys, stop,” Hazel giggles, and the circle re-forms. “Reyna’s right. We made it to Madison Square Garden, y’all. Fucking MSG! We are here! We remain un-murdered! Let’s get this shit!”

“Axe murder on three!” Annabeth exclaims. “One, two, three—”

“AXE MURDER!”

They all jump up and down like a bunch of fools, and Percy looks over to find his mother having way too much fun for her own good. He smiles so widely he thinks his face might crack in half, cannot help himself as they move in time with each other, perfectly in synch. There is so much love here, in their little family, and it just never fucking runs out. How it is that a group of people so incredibly kind, talented, and tenderhearted all managed to find each other, he has no idea, but he will be forever grateful for the fact that they allowed him into their lives.

When it’s time for Demi to head out onto stage, he gives Annabeth one last squeeze of the hand, slowslowfast, and kisses Hazel on top of the head. As they take their places on stage behind the curtain, Percy lifts his camera to his eye and prepares himself for the realization that he will not be doing this again for longer than he can fully comprehend.

He feels his mother’s hand on his shoulder, feels her give him a reassuring squeeze, and he takes a deep breath, lets it ground him. He is here surrounded by people who love him, watching his best friends in the world realize their lifelong dreams. He is here watching the woman he loves straighten her posture for the last time, watching his little sister bounce up and down with an energy she can’t contain. He is here with them all, witnessing their magic, and he relishes in the fact that he will be the one to capture it all, that he is the one in charge of making these moments last forever. It’s an honor and a privilege that he feels overwhelm him each and every night, and he lets it wash over him one last time, lets it settle down in his chest where it loosens that vice, deep in his belly where it fills the empty space, lets it permeate his bones until he cannot feel a single thing but gratitude and love and warmth.

Thalia starts to play the opening notes of their most famous song, the crowd loses their absolute shit, the curtains drop as Percy gets his first shot of the night, and they are all exactly where they are meant to be.

—

“Okay, fuck that!” Thalia yells, waving her drink in the air angrily. “Just because I’m _gay_ —”

“Fuck off, Grace,” Piper interrupts. “You can’t pull the gay card for everything.”

“I can and I will.”

“Being gay has nothing to do with the fact that you got blackout drunk and tried to swim in the fountain at the mall,” Reyna informs her wife.

“Or does it have _everything_ to do with it?” Leo says, and Thalia high-fives him and flips off Piper.

They are all gathered at Reyna and Thalia’s apartment in Brooklyn for Percy’s going away party, getting drunk and telling stories and yelling at each other, as per usual. Everyone is strewn around different surfaces of the massive living room, mostly on the floor, but there is more than enough space to sit. Which is exactly why Percy raises his eyebrows at Piper when she chooses her spot on the loveseat next to Jason and cozies up against his side. She sees Percy looking and puts her drink down just so she can flip him off with both hands, so he blows her a kiss back.

He’s leaning back on his arms on the floor beside Hazel, who has taken to braiding Annabeth’s hair. Both he and Hazel, plus Grover and Juniper, will be heading out for Canada tomorrow and will stay for a week before Percy goes on his way to Antarctica and his friends go home. He gets terrified and exhilarated and very close to vomiting every time he thinks of it, so he has opted to focus on the present instead.

“So Juniper,” Silena begins from her spot beside Clarisse. “Tell us more about yourself.”

Juniper blushes a bit and Grover beams at her, kissing her head and rubbing her side.

“Um, well—there’s really not much to tell,” she says. “I’m kind of boring.”

“You are not boring,” Piper assures her. “Tell us anything. Why Grover of all people?”

“Hey!” Grover protests and Piper winks at him.

“Grover is the sweetest, warmest, most considerate person I know,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink. “And he loves the environment just as much as I do. What’s not to love?”

It’s Grover’s turn to blush deep red and Hazel’s jaw drops.

“ _Love_?” she screeches, and Juniper’s eyes get wide. “Love! They’re in love!”

“Guys, stop—” Grover tries to protest, but everyone starts chanting, _love love love love_ as if they’re in some sort of cult and Juniper starts to laugh as Grover buries his face in her shoulder.

Percy grins widely, unable to contain his happiness for his best friend. He remembers when Grover used to worry about finding someone who wouldn’t be put-off by his disability, when he feared that he might be a burden on whoever loved him. Percy has never been more grateful to see someone get exactly what they deserve, to see his friend overcome all the insecurities that used to hold him back. It's incredibly overwhelming.

“Braid mine next,” Percy tells Hazel before he can get too emotional about his best friend, and she pouts.

“Your hair is too short and you know it,” she tells him. “And you’d look absolutely hideous with cornrows.”

“That is the rudest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Lemme try,” Annabeth offers, and he and Hazel look at each other.

She pumps her eyebrows up and down conspiratorially and he flicks her in the forehead, then crawls in front of Annabeth.

“Braiding train?” he says, and she shakes her head.

“Your head will be too high. Lie back,” she tells him, and he narrows his eyes at her.

“Are you gonna give me a wet willy?” he asks suspiciously, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“No, I’m not five years old, Percy.” He continues to stare at her and she sighs heavily. “Forget it, you’re an idiot.”

“No, play with my hair, I’m touch starved,” he pleads, jutting out his lower lip, and she purses her lips.

“You have spent the entire party hugging everyone for twenty minutes each, at least.”

“Not you. This is our time to shine, Chase.”

She finally gives up and pushes him until his back is facing her, then pulls him down by his shoulders until his head rests in her lap.

“I want a proper twenty-minute hug,” she tells him, running her fingers through the front of his hair.

It sends a shudder through him that he tries to cover up with a cough, and she does her best to bite back her smile as she chooses a section of hair to try to braid. He looks at her upside down and crosses his eyes, so she sticks her tongue out at him.

“I think that can be arranged,” he mutters, and she smiles a bit, rolling her eyes.

He watches her as she works, totally focused, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in a firm line. It’s akin to the look she gets when she drums, and he can’t help the dopey smile that overcomes his face when he sees how intent she is on getting a braid out of him.

“You’re very dedicated to your craft,” he comments lightly, and she grunts in agreement. He raises his hand and pokes her forehead. “You get that little crinkle between your eyebrows. Your eyes get really dark and serious. You look like you could kill a man.”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop perceiving me so intentionally,” she threatens, and he laughs a bit.

“I can’t help it,” he mutters. “You’re a fascinating specimen.”

“Thank you for describing me using a word that could also refer to actual human shit given the right context.”

“Animal shit, too.”

“Ah, yes, how could I forget.”

“And bacteria shit. But they don’t really shit, they just…exocytose.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly romantic?”

“I happen to be known for my ability to woo and make swoon.”

“Well, you’re certainly living up to your reputation here.”

“If only we were having a candlelit dinner instead of being surrounded by a bunch of loud drunks.”

“Maybe one day,” she muses, and he looks up at her, eyebrows raised.

She threads her fingers through his hair and gives it a gentle tug, her cheeks tinted light pink, and he feels his heart do that stupid fucking thing where it nearly jumps out of his chest. He smiles up at her, unable to contain it, and she bites the inside of her cheek and musses up his hair.

Maybe one day.

“I’m a failure,” she says, and he grabs her hand before she can do any more damage.

“I forgive you,” he tells her, threading his fingers through hers.

She squeezes his tightly, a long, steady pressure, and he pulls their hands forward until they rest on his chest. Hazel announces that Annabeth’s braid is done and then decides it’s time to throw herself across Reyna and Thalia’s laps and be as dramatic as humanly possible.

“Can you believe my only son is finally leaving the nest,” she sighs, throwing her hand across her forehead.

“I’m older than you,” Percy says.

“You are my _son_.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I have an idea,” Clarisse announces from beside Silena. “Let’s all share our favorite memory of Percy making a fool of himself.”

“Oh no, I don’t think—” he tries to say, but he is promptly cut off.

“I’ll start!” Thalia offers. “Remember in Tulsa when he fell off the stage during the show and ended up accidentally crowd-surfing into a mosh pit?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, and Annabeth squeezes his hand, but she’s laughing along with the rest of them.

“Ooh, what about when he had the flu and sneezed so hard his pants fell down?” Leo says, and Percy groans loudly as they all laugh at him.

“Wait, wait, remember when we rented those bikes in Texas and he crashed into a parked car?” Piper gasps, and he laughs at it himself, because it was actually really fucking funny.

“You’re all the _worst_!” he yells, but he can’t keep the amusement out of his tone.

“That was nothing compared to when he fell down those hotel steps in Cleveland and landed with his ass in the air,” Reyna adds, then pauses. “Pants fell down, then, too.”

He rolls over and buries his face in Annabeth’s leg in shame and she laughs and tugs on his ear.

“I’m sensing a pattern of pantslessness here,” Silena says. “Percy, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I buy my sweats in a large because my ass is too fat to fit in a medium,” he tells her, peeking out from Annabeth’s thigh.

“You hear that? He thicc,” Hazel says, and they all lose it.

“Aw, leave him alone,” Grover tries to reason despite the fact that he’s still laughing himself. “It’s not his fault he has no coordination.”

“He’s just too tall, his limbs don’t know what to do with themselves,” Annabeth responds, and he pouts up at her.

She scrunches up her nose and squeezes his cheek and he huffs and puffs but takes her other hand in his anyway.

“Like a newborn giraffe,” she adds. “Constantly falling on his ass.”

She gives him the wet willy she promised she was far too mature for and that is the final straw.

“Okay, I am _out_ of here,” he says, starting to stand up, but then Annabeth tackles him to the ground and the rest of his friends decide it is the perfect opportunity to form a dog-pile.

It is there, as he suffocates beneath his closest friends, that he is hit with the reality of what must come next. No part of him is ready to let go of this feeling, to walk away from what he has built here. But he knows too that what he is doing is not walking away—he will not be leaving these people behind, will not be giving up on them. They are already a permanent fixture in his life; now he will just be making his way towards a future where he will be able to reunite with them once more. Whether they’re all together or not, he knows, he will always have a home amongst them, and they will always have one with him.

It’s a soothing thought, one that he lets settle his churning stomach and steady his shaky hands. Despite the fact that they are quite literally crushing the life out of him he realizes that he hasn’t breathed so easily in months, hasn’t felt this good in far too long. So when the pile breaks up and he is left sprawled out on the floor, he shuts his eyes and screams far too loudly about how much he loves them until he gets twelve pillows thrown at his face.

It’s totally worth it.

When it is finally time for Percy and Hazel to head out so they can rest up before their trip the next day, Percy says his goodbyes one by one, hugging each of his friends in turn. Silena squeezes him tightly, sniffles as she tells him to keep in touch, Thalia smacks him in the face gently and threatens to fly all the way to Antarctica to beat his ass if he doesn’t call, Reyna hugs him briefly and rests her hand firmly on the top of his head before giving him one last wet willy, and Connor Stoll pantses him while Travis distracts him with a goodbye. Clarisse huffs out a breath and pats him on the shoulder, but he absolutely refuses to accept it and hugs her anyway (she denies hugging him back, but he is sure he felt her squeeze him around his middle and he will never let her live it down). Leo hands Percy a lighter with a lion on it, so that Percy will remember him, and Percy rolls his eyes and pulls Leo in for a hug.

“As if I could ever forget you, you fuckin’ pyromaniac,” Percy says, and Leo hugs him tighter.

“Offer’s still on the table, you know,” Leo tells him. “We could have an incredible life together.”

Percy laughs and smacks a kiss onto Leo’s forehead and then shoves him away. When he gets to Piper she swallows and does her best not to let the tears that have formed in her eyes fall. He may or may not be having the same dilemma. He juts out his lower lip and she does the same, then throws her arms around his middle and gives him one last Piper McLean hug. It’s so tight and pressured that he thinks he might pop, but it’s exactly what he needs—to feel like he is literally being held together in the moment he fears he might fall apart. He kisses her head and tells her he loves her and she sniffles as she pulls away and kisses him on the cheek.

“Be good,” she tells him, wiping at his cheeks for him, and he helps her dry her tears, too. “I don’t want to hear any nonsense about you not being good enough, do you understand me? And I want pictures of the polar bears every fucking day. You hear? A polar bear a day or you’re dead to me.”

He laughs and kisses her on the forehead.

"There's no polar bears in Antarctica, Pipes," he says, and she gapes at him.  “I promise you will get a picture a day. Maybe not of a polar bear, but you’ll get something.”

“Finally gonna drop those nudes you’ve been bragging about?” she suggests, wearing a shit-eating grin, and he laughs and shoves her face away from him.

“You wish, McLean,” he says. “If you wanna see my ass so bad you’re gonna have to take me to dinner first.”

“I know a great sushi place downtown.”

He rolls his eyes and she kisses his knuckles and then the only person left is Annabeth. Despite the fact that it is not her apartment she walks him out to the hall along with Hazel, Grover, and Juniper. They all stand around awkwardly until Hazel groans and drags Grover and Juniper down towards the elevators to give Percy and Annabeth some space. He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to say, and she clasps her hands in front of her and kicks the ground.

“So,” she says.

“So,” he responds, having a bit of difficulty suppressing his grin, and when she looks up at him she is smiling, too.

She rolls her eyes and hugs him around the neck, pushing up onto her toes, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. He takes a few moments to savor the feeling, to try to commit to memory every tiny detail. The feeling of her hair tickling his cheek, the pressure of her arms around her neck, the body heat and the smell of lemons and the way they breathe in time with each other. Their bodies seem to slot together so perfectly it’s as if they’re two halves of one whole, and he cannot believe it took him so long to find her. He can’t believe it will take him another eighteen months to be here with her again. Eighteen months without any sunlight. The thought is a bit too heavy to handle.

He feels his throat get tight and he shuts his eyes and buries his nose in her hair, can’t bring himself to think about it any longer.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” she whispers, her voice thick, and he holds her closer.

“I’m really, really gonna miss you,” he says back, and she digs her chin into his shoulder.

“You just had to one-up me, didn’t you?”

He laughs a bit and she presses her smile into his neck and he feels his heart break all over again. Soft lips and a cold nose and an aching in his chest that will not leave him until he can feel them both pressed against his skin once more. He kisses the side of her head and brushes his lips over her ear and he can feel more than hear the way her breath hitches in her throat, and nothing in the world has ever hurt more than this moment.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” he whispers, because he cannot find any meaningful words to say when his entire body is steeped in agony.

She nods and kisses his shoulder before she pulls away from him.

She takes his hands in hers and they are all shaking, four palms and ten callouses and a tremble that only gets worse once they come together. A rhythm repeated so many times they lose count, one, two, onetwo, and a steadiness they find in the beat.

“Stay safe, alright?” she says, lifting one hand to brush his curls back from his forehead.

He nods and does the same for her, tries with every movement and every moment of silence to tell her what he can’t bring himself to voice aloud. He brushes his thumb over her cheek and she finally meets his eyes and he has never seen such a vivid grey ringed in red, cloudy and watery in the worst of ways. He is sure his look just the same, and he moves his hand to her jaw, runs his thumb along her smooth skin one last time. He  kisses her forehead once, squeezes out one last rhythm on her hands before he takes a step back and finally makes a move to go.

The foot of space between them might as well be the distance between New York and Antarctica, feels just as vast and just as significant. But, he reminds himself, it is not permanent. He will return to her, and when he does, there will be no more holding back.

“Percy,” she says before he turns to go, and he holds her eyes with his.

Grey on green and 9,000 miles of space between. She swallows, knitting her eyebrows, and he feels himself mirror her expression, feels the weight of all the ways they are irrevocably connected.

“You’re still my best friend,” she tells him, and he smiles a bit as her words dig into his sternum.

“You’re still mine,” he assures her. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of me just because I might get eaten by a seal.”

She laughs a bit and wipes at her eyes and he grins and reaches out for her hand, kisses her knuckles gently.

“Goodnight, Annabeth,” he says, because saying goodbye is too much to bear.

“Goodnight, Percy,” she whispers back, and he squeezes her fingers before he finally releases her.

It’s a difficult task, forcing himself to turn and walk down the hall, to walk away from her. As he moves farther and farther away he feels the weight of his decision heavy in his chest. He wishes for a moment that he was living his life in a movie, that just before the end credits roll she might call after him or he might muster the courage to turn around and they could fall into each other’s arms once more. But his life is nothing like the movies, never has been. He knows that the girl will not chase the boy out the door. He knows that the boy just cannot bring himself to turn around when whatever might happen will have to wait an unbearable amount of time.

He knows too that, above all else, this is not the end for them—it is the one thing in the world he is absolutely certain of. So he will take the moments he has had with her, will hold onto them and keep them close to his chest and let them be a reminder that one day they will meet again.

And when they do, it will be fucking glorious.

—

Percy has broken his number one rule a total of three times over the course of the day: no crying.

It happened first when he woke up beside Hazel in the hotel in Canada. She looked so small and so innocent and he could not believe he was going to have to go an entire year and a half before he could wake up with her fist lodged into his neck again. The tears may also have been from how hard she punched him in the throat in her sleep.

The second time was at breakfast with Grover, Juniper, and Hazel, when they presented him with a gift that the entire band and crew made for him. A small photo album, behind-the-scenes pictures from tour and days off with all of them together. Memories made compact and tangible so they could never be forgotten. He'd spent probably too long looking at one of him and Annabeth on his birthday, right after she’d mushed a handful of cake down the side of his face, and he’d gotten her back by wiping it off on her hair. In the photo they look like they’re _trying_ to be annoyed at each other, but their fond smiles betray them. Had they always been so obvious?

“Travel-sized. So you can show the penguins how cool you are and they can accept you into their penguin families,” Hazel had said.

He'd burst into tears immediately after.

He breaks it the last time at the airport where he must say goodbye to his friends. He is meant to meet with a few of the team members at their gate and fly out to South America before they make the journey to the research center in Antarctica together. The thought of all that flying makes his stomach churn, but he made sure to pack his _3ilkeh_ and, well—he refuses to think about it until he absolutely must. It feels like a sound enough plan at the moment. He’ll deal with the logistics later.

When the first goodbye comes Percy is grateful for Juniper’s presence, and he has the nerve to think that having someone there who he doesn’t know as well as his two best friends might ground him and help him keep it together. Instead, the second she hugs him, warm and gentle and so fucking tender, he feels his throat get tight and he has to pull away from her before he erupts. His goodbye with Grover is no different, but Percy absolutely refuses to let go, and he has to be pried away by Hazel.

“I love you so fucking much,” he sniffles, holding Grover’s face in his hands.

Grover nods, unable to speak, and presses his forehead against Percy’s. They take a few moments to collect themselves and then pull away and wipe at their faces. And then Percy pulls him in for another hug, because he cannot help himself. He squeezes and squeezes until Grover quite literally squeaks, and then he kisses the top of his best friend’s head and pushes his hair back from his forehead. _I love you and I’m leaving but I will still be here for you_. Grover wipes at his eyes and squeezes Percy’s hand, and Percy juts out his lower lip.

“I’ll see you soon, Perce,” Grover croaks. “It’ll be so fast. The blink of an eye.”

Percy nods and tries to swallow the knot in his throat.

“No going in the sun without protection,” he says. “And no standing out in extreme temperatures—no burning hot and no freezing cold. And use your damn crutches if you’re gonna go to a march. And don’t forget to take your vitamin D and boil your mint and—”

Grover puts his hand over Percy’s mouth.

“Sh, shut the fuck up,” he whispers gently, and Percy can’t help the massive smile that breaks out onto his face. “I’ll take care of myself. Promise. You have to promise, too.”

“Promise,” he mumbles against Grover’s hand.

He kisses his best friend’s forehead one last time and then moves on to Hazel, who is standing completely still. She swallows and sets her lips in a hard line and stands straight as a rod, her fists balled at her sides.

“I will not cry,” she says determinedly. “I will _not_.”

“Okay,” Percy agrees and sticks out his hand. “Shake on it.”

The second their palms meet they both lose their cool, Hazel’s lower lip trembling and Percy’s vision going blurry.

“I said—no—crying,” Hazel chokes out, a sob breaking up her words.

“Me too,” Percy says shakily, his tears streaming freely down his face. “This is just allergies.”

Hazel starts fully crying, then, and she throws her arms around his neck and sobs into his coat.

“I changed my—my mind. I don’t want—you to—to go,” she cries, and he can feel how violently she is shaking in his arms. “Let’s go home. F-fuck the—stupid—penguins.”

He laughs at that, unable to contain himself, and it mingles with the sobs wracking through his chest. Hazel giggles a bit but she is still crying as well and Percy is absolutely positive they have never been less stable. He holds onto her a little tighter and feels completely ridiculous, but he does not give a single shit. They are both losing their fucking minds and it’s so absurd that they just keep laughing as they pull apart and Percy shoves Hazel’s shoulder.

“You’re so fuckin’ rude,” he laughs. “You know I’ll listen. I’ll get on your plane with you right fucking now.”

“I know,” she says, wiping at his cheeks for him. “That’s why I said it.”

He laughs again and she smiles up at him with no teeth, so he rolls his eyes and pulls her into his chest. She sighs contentedly and wraps her arms around his middle, squeezes him hard, and he refuses to acknowledge how much his chest aches already, despite the fact that he is still here with her.

“I love you, Hazy,” he mutters into her hair, then kisses her head.

“I love you, ugly,” she says back, holding him tighter. “I’m so happy you came home.”

“Me too,” he whispers, feeling the tears start to pool again. “Dua Lipa saved my life.”

She laughs a bit, pulling back from him, and he smiles, wipes her cheeks.

“I’m really glad she stole our old photographer—he was an even bigger bitch than you.”

He laughs from his belly and she giggles a bit, holds onto his coat. She adjusts it for him and gets very quiet suddenly, and he frowns and smoothes out the crinkle between her eyebrows.

“What are you thinking about?” he mutters, and she purses her lips.

“How I probably never would’ve known what happened to you if you hadn’t come on tour with us,” she says quietly. She looks up at him, then. “You would’ve gone through all of that alone, for so long, Percy. You never would’ve told us, would you have?”

He knits his eyebrows and swallows.

“Probably not,” he admits, and she frowns again. “When Grover called that day—I was applying to be a waiter. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever—at least not the way it was before. I could take pictures of you guys, because it was easier, you know? It wasn’t what I’d planned my whole life around.”

“Low-risk,” Hazel mutters, and he nods.

“Yeah.” They are quiet for a moment before he nudges her. “Plus I had you to look forward to.”

She rolls her eyes and punches his arm.

“Nice save, asshole,” she says, and he grins and smacks a kiss onto her forehead.

“I’m so grateful for it,” he tells her quietly. “You’re the only reason I’m here right now, Hazy.”

She shakes her head.

“You did this, Perce. This was all you. It’s the result of all your hard work, every single sacrifice you’ve ever made, every minute you spent lurking in the trees or whatever the fuck.” He laughs a bit and she grins up at him. “I’m so proud of you. You did this, bitch. Own it, now.”

He smiles widely and squeezes her nose between her knuckles and she does the same to him. One last I love you, one last way to tell each other all the things they can't manage to say to each other just yet. He picks up his duffle bag and he knows it's time to leave them, so he braces himself for it, takes a deep breath.

"I will see you all in hell," he says, and Hazel giggles as Grover's eyes widen in horror. He swallows. "I love you guys."

"Love you, Perce," Grover says.

"Fuck off already, would you? What is this, a coming-of-age movie? Begone, thot," Hazel snaps, and it's exactly what he needs.

He flips her off and she blows him a kiss and he finally finds it in him to go. He hangs onto the brief burst of strength he feels for as long as he can, somehow manages to keep his cool all the way to the gate. The second he sits down next to one of his new team members as they wait to board the plane is the second it all comes undone, everything in him unraveling at once. He is homesick already, longing for more than just a city, for more than just a spot on a map. 

He needs to be reminded of the reasons he is doing this, of all the things that led him to this point. He needs to remind _himself_ why he is here, needs to recognize the fact that the people he loves gave him the tools to navigate this change, and now he must use them for himself. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply and focuses hard on all the moments collected in time and decisions he has made that have preceded this point—him sitting here, waiting to start his first Antarctic expedition. Despite the fact that he is living it this very moment, it all feels like a distant dream. He can’t believe how far he has come, can’t believe that he has managed to make it here. 

He thinks back to the moment he decided he would never again accept another freelance job, would never again bother to try. To the time when he was so broken and so disgusted with himself that he nearly gave up on everything. It makes his chest ache just thinking about it, an old fear stirred up inside of him. But he is working through this, too. He is doing everything he can to overcome it, taking as many steps as he needs to find his way back to himself. 

He thinks about small hands gripping his arms, vowing to stand by his side, thinks about dark brown eyes that feel like home and messy curls that he can’t ever help brushing back and thunder rumbling in a steady rhythm and the voice of an angel whispering her promise into his skin and he lets it all wash over him in a wave of gratitude. He has been battered and torn to shreds more times than he can count, but he has been sewn back together just as often, supported and loved even more so.

And he remembers. He remembers it all, and he knows, now. No matter how fucking wretched it all feels, no matter how tightly the vice in his chest is squeezing his sorry heart, how heavy the emptiness in his stomach weighs him down, he knows that it will not last. He knows there will come a time when he will take a breath and will feel the air fill his lungs, feel his chest expand as far as it needs to, feel his stomach full and settled and whole. If there is anything he has learned in the past nine months it is that he will fall and he will break and he might even combust like one of Leo’s metallic catastrophes, but it will not be the end of the road. He will always manage to navigate whatever pitfalls come his way, and he will do it even if he has to fucking claw his way out of them. 

And that is a promise he will keep to himself. It is the squeeze of an arm, the warmth of dark chocolate, the soft twist of a curl, the comfort of a familiar beat, the ease of a name spoken in a foreign land. It is a promise, told a thousand different ways in a thousand different moments, all culminating into one.

_We are here and we love you and we will never leave you_.

His boarding group gets called, so he shoulders his bag and takes his place on line right where a patch of sunlight bathes the cold floor. And he knows now, after everything, that its warmth will never fade.

This, too, is a step in the right direction. 

A promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly cannot believe the story has (kind of) come to an end. I'll try to post the epilogue on schedule but I'm toying around with different ways of writing and formatting it and I really want to nail it down properly, so it might take a bit longer.  
> As always, thank you thank you thank you for reading. I love y'all.


	13. one thousand and one nights (epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Chapter contains (very brief and vague) references to past trauma  
> -Okay so I messed up and I need to own up to my mistake: there are no narwhals OR polar bears in Antarctica which breaks my heart—they exist only in the Arctic so I’ve gone back and fixed that lil’ mistake. I was just so hype about the narwhals in particular that I didn’t even fact check. Percy can see them both when he makes it to the North Pole one day (which he will because my brain said so)  
> -I will warn you now, you might maybe perchance be a little mad at me once you hit a certain point in the epilogue. You just gotta keep on reading. Have patience. Have faith.  
> -Epilogue title is from the song Alf Layla Wa Layla by Umm Kulthum  
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoy!

_Three months after_

“Hazel Levesque if you don’t stop fucking around and let me talk to my fish—”

“How about you talk to my ass,” she says, trying to reach around and point her phone at her butt, but she ends up just giving him a view of her thumb over the camera. 

“You are such a child.”

She gives up and brings the camera back to her face.

“ _Me_? I’m not the one that thinks I can talk to my fish, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

He pouts, then. “But I miss them. And I moved them out of my apartment so suddenly—they must be so shaken.”

“God, Antarctica has really loosened your last screw, huh? You’ve officially lost it?”

“Fuck you, I get 5 minutes of good WiFi a day and I chose to call you, and this is the thanks I get? I’m hanging up and calling Grover.”

“Good riddance,” she says, finally pointing the camera at the fish tank. “Look how gorgeous Little Hazel is, as always. Little Percy is lookin’ a little rough, though, I can’t lie.” She flips the camera again and raises her eyebrows. “Not unlike big Percy.”

He flips her off and she cackles like the evil little witch she is. 

“Well, Big Percy is having a day, alright?”

“What’s wrong with Big Percy?” 

She pauses to grimace at the name and he grins. 

“Well as you know I have teamed up with Zain and a few other freelancers to take down that giant fucking asshole.” She nods and he sighs, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Had to give a statement today. It just sucked. Drained me, you know?”

She frowns and juts out her lower lip and he shrugs. 

“I’m sorry, Perce. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

“Yeah, well. We have this onsite counselor so we won’t lose our minds in the tundra or whatever. So...I’ve kind of been utilizing that resource a lot.”

Hazel’s eyebrows shoot up as she smiles widely. 

“Percy that’s great! I’m so happy for you! Look at you, therapy bitch. I'm so proud of you.” 

He smiles widely and rolls his eyes. 

"Thanks, Hazy. Been a long time coming."

"That's for sure," she mutters, and he flips her off as she smiles at him brightly.

“I hope you talk about how much you love me and how I’m the center of your universe and—”

The WiFi goes out, and he could not have had better timing himself. 

~ ~ ~

“I was absolutely _not_ an asshole to you at first,” Annabeth protests, and the steam from her cup fogs up the camera.

“You were, though,” he tells her. “Just a little bit.”

She huffs as she wipes the steam off her laptop and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Maybe a little,” she concedes, and he grins. “ _However_ , you were always fuckin’ taking pictures, even when we weren’t on stage. I wanted to break your damn camera.”

He knits his eyebrows.

“Why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning? I wouldn’t have done it so much if I’d known.”

“You were basically a stranger, Percy. I didn’t know what you’d say.”

He realizes with a start that he cannot remember what it was like before he knew her, that he has completely forgotten that they haven’t always just been in each other’s lives. Any time before her feels distant somehow, and he struggles to wrap his mind around the fact that she is new to him, as far as his other friends are concerned. 

“Sometimes I forget that we didn’t always just know each other,” he mutters, and she smiles a bit, leans forward onto her arms.

“I wish we had,” she tells him, and his chest aches in agreement. “Do you think if we’d met at any other time we’d be as close as we are now?”

He tilts his head in thought.

“I don’t know. I was a dick when I was younger,” he says, and she laughs a bit. “I mean, not really, but—I had anger issues. If you pissed me off it would’ve been on sight.”

She laughs again.

“I wouldn’t have been able to deal with your bullshit, I’m way too impatient,” she tells him, and he grins a bit.

“Sounds kind of like now.”

She flips him off and he smiles widely.

“I think we would be,” he says. “I think we would’ve probably wanted to strangle each other, but it’d be the same. You’d still be my best friend.”

She smiles widely and sips on her tea.

“Hm,” she hums. “At least we have each other now.”

And he can’t really put into words just how sharply the pang of longing that follows hits him. He focuses on her words instead.

At least they have each other now.

—

_Six months after_

“Annabeth. Why?” Percy pleads. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She rolls her eyes at him. 

“Not everything is about you, Percy. What Sally and I have is special,” she tells him, and he grimaces. “She’s teaching me how to roll grape leaves and I am giving her architecture advice for her book. And in between she shows me your baby pictures and tells me as many embarrassing stories about you as possible. It’s a beautiful arrangement.”

He groans and leans his head back onto his bunk. 

“You are absolutely killing me.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get eaten by a sperm whale soon. Then you’ll never have to worry about this again.”

He flips her off just as his mother appears on the screen and she smacks the front of the camera as if that’ll hurt anyone but the phone.

“ _Ya_ _haywan_ ,” she scolds, calling her only child an animal while she wraps her arms around a stranger’s shoulders, and Annabeth sticks her tongue out at him. “Do not give the finger to my new best friend.”

“Mama _I_ used to be your best friend. She’s an infiltrator, kick her out.”

“You’re not my best friend—Leila Arshad is.”

“What? _Leila Arshad_? Since when? And what happened to Wassam?”

She rolls her eyes and swats her hand in the air as if his questions are a couple of pestering bugs. 

“Wassam is still my friend, but Leila and I have always been closer. You know her son Moustafa—”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t be rude! He’s a sweet boy!”

“He sucks, mom, all he ever talks about is his stupid Tesla.”

“Well, his mother doesn’t suck. So you better be nice to her son.”

“In case you’ve forgotten I’m in the South friggin Pole, I’m not gonna be anywhere near him.”

“Well, if you see him while you’re out with the penguins—” he rolls his eyes, “—you better be nice.” She squeezes Annabeth’s cheeks. “And be nice to this one. She’s a Jackson now.”

His mind goes back to a line he repeats to himself probably too many times on a daily basis. _Maybe one day_. He clears his throat and tries to fight off the warmth in his cheeks and Annabeth smirks triumphantly. 

“Hear that, you little bitch?” she whispers into the phone once his mother is gone. “I’ve weaseled my way in. There’s no getting rid of me, now.”

He narrows his eyes. 

“We’ll see about that.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he is about to ask her how she’s been, but the WiFi cuts out and he sighs heavily. A few more moments would have been nice. Anything at all. Despite the fact that they talk almost every day, it’s just not enough. Even if he had the rest of his life to spend with her, it would never be enough.

He rubs his chest and takes a deep breath and tries not to miss her too much. He’s playing a losing game, he knows, but he just can’t quit. 

It fuckin’ sucks. 

He makes his way out of the bunks to head to the mess hall for dinner, sees Frank sitting with their friend Yusra, a Syrian-Danish researcher who has quickly become Percy’s best friend here. She understands him on a level most others just can’t sometimes—they talk about their moms, bicker about who makes better food, yell at each other in Arabic when they’re annoyed. It’s refreshing, and she is a breath of fresh air in a place so far away from home. 

He gets his food and greets Frank with a fist-bump, whacks Yusra on the head with his fork when he arrives at the table, and she jabs at his leg with her butter knife. 

“What are you tryin’ to kill me?” he says after he nearly brains himself on his stool. 

She smiles up at him sweetly and he flicks her forehead as he takes his seat next to her. 

“Have fun talking to your girlfriend?” she asks, and he feels the heat rise to his cheeks. 

Frank smirks and Percy wants to die. She caught him listening to the audiobook Annabeth made for him _one fucking time_ and now he will never live it down. 

Never mind the fact that he has increasingly been relying on the recording to fall asleep at night. Nobody really needs to know about that.

“She’s not my girlfriend. And it’s none of your business, asshole.”

“Uh oh, someone’s a bit defensive, no?”

He shoves a piece of bread into her mouth. 

“Eat. Talking doesn’t suit you.”

~ ~ ~

“PERCY THAT IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I’VE EVER SEEN!” Grover screams into the phone, in the middle of the street in Manhattan. “Oh man, I wish I was there.”

Percy sighs and flips the camera around back to his face instead of out the window, where he and Grover watched a couple of minutes of the Antarctic sunset together. The sky is blood red, bathing the ice fields in a heavy orange glow. It is surreal and breathtaking and now that winter is only a few days away in the southern hemisphere the sun stays on the horizon all the time, but Percy just does not get sick of seeing it (or photographing it).

“I wish you were here, too, bud,” Percy says. “But this isn’t my last trip. We’re going to the North Pole together. Time to see the narwhals and save the polar bears, babes.”

Grover nods seriously.

“Yes it is. Me and you and Juniper and our children—”

Percy’s eyes bulge out.

“IS SHE—”

“No! No no no. No. I meant, like, in the future.”

Grover’s cheeks turn as red as the sunset outside, and Percy almost feels bad for him. He grins widely, then.

“You two and your little activist babies are gonna be the cutest family in the world,” Percy coos, and Grover blushes even more.

“Thank you!” Juniper chirps from next to Grover, and Percy grins widely.

“Perhaps you and Annabeth might have a couple of—”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Percy says, cutting Grover off as he walks back to his bunk.

He runs into Yusra and waves her over, excited to finally have the chance to introduce her to his best friend.

“Wait, Grover, I want you to meet my new best friend who I am replacing you with effective immediately.”

Grover pouts and Yusra rolls her eyes. She is so short that Percy has to angle the camera down far enough for his head to cut off in order for Grover to be able to see her.

“This is Yusra. Yusra, this is my ex-best friend Grover,” Percy introduces, and Grover scowls as Yusra laughs a bit.

“Hi, Grover,” she greets, and he smiles and waves. “I can’t believe you deal with Percy willingly.”

Grover laughs a bit.

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it,” he says.

“Hey,” Percy protests. “Do not bond over how much you hate me. Bond about how much you love and adore me.”

Yusra rolls her eyes once more and takes the phone out of his hand.

“Has he always been this insufferable?” she asks Grover in a stage-whisper, walking along, and Percy tugs on her ear. 

She swats at him and he blows a raspberry at her so he elbows him in the ribs hard.

“Ugh, beast,” he grumbles, rubbing his side, and she smirks triumphantly.

Percy grabs the phone back from her and sees that Grover has a puzzled look on his face, as if he’s confused. Percy knits his eyebrows.

“Alright, G-man?” he asks, and Grover nods.

“Yeah, for sure,” he says. “Um, what are you up to for the rest of the day?”

“Well I was planning on stuffing my face and then watching Frank workout and feeling bad about myself,” Percy says, and Yusra snorts.

“You don’t wanna watch tonight’s feature film presentation?” she asks. “I have contraband snacks that I stole from the kitchen.”

“Ooh, yeah, I’m gonna do that instead.” 

He looks back to Grover and sees that Juniper is now also looking at him funny. 

“Guys, what the fuck?”

Grover looks like he’s about to answer but the WiFi cuts out and Percy groans, throwing his head back.

“Your friend is nice,” Yusra says. “Must be really patient, too if he’s put up with you for so long.”

Percy shoves her into a wall and she kicks him in the shins and as they walk towards the mess hall, all he can think about is the look on Grover’s face, what he could have seen that Percy could not. 

~ ~ ~

“All I’m saying,” Annabeth begins slowly, “is that you are a terrible flirt.”

He stares at her, his mouth agape.

“ _Me_?” he says, incredulous. “You think _I’m_ a flirt?”

“Absolutely you are,” she insists. “It’s like every damn interaction is an invitation.”

He actually laughs out loud.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he laughs. “I’m so weird and awkward.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, right, Percy. And I’m two feet tall.”

He shakes his head.

“You’re so wrong it physically pains me. There is no one else in the world who would describe me as a flirt except you.”

“It’s the eyes, I’m telling you. You do that thing where you like, _look_. And you don’t stop looking. It’s unsettling.”

He knits his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I cannot even begin to wrap my head around it because it is such nonsense.”

“You’re gonna tell me that you are not entirely purposeful in the way you carry a conversation? Your body language? Your stupid fuckin’ eyes burning through my soul?”

He grins and leans back in his chair and she shakes her head at him.

“You’re doing it now,” she tells him.

“Doing what?” he asks, laughing. “I’m smiling.”

“You’re _smirking_. Arrogant bastard.”

He smiles again and, well—maybe she’s a little bit right. But whatever false charm he has is entirely reserved for her and her alone.

“I meant what I said before,” he tells her. “You’re the only one who’d say I’m a flirt.”

“Oh yeah?” she says, leaning forward. “What makes you so sure?”

“There’s no one else I flirt with.”

“You see! That counts!” she shouts indignantly, and he laughs. “You think you’re charming, you sick fuck?”

He laughs harder.

“Not at all, actually,” he says, and she looks him up and down, shaking her head.

“Disgusting.”

He grins widely, can’t help himself, and she purses her lips in an attempt to suppress her smile.

Sunlight for the first time since the summer solstice, cutting through the darkness of winter. He can’t imagine how brightly it might shine when he finally has the chance to be with her once more. 

—

_Nine months after_

“Ugh, finally,” Percy says as Annabeth appears on his screen, pixelated and blurry. “Ah shit, this connection is so bad.”

“Sorry—don’t—there—Percy?”

Her words are cut up and he is absolutely miserable, because all he wanted after the day he’s had was to talk to her, and now this is happening. They haven’t spoken in quite a while, the longest they’ve gone since he left, and it stings a bit to think about.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” he mutters once the call disconnects, and he bangs his head against his desk in frustration.

Percy takes a deep breath and decides he will have to go to the satellite building, where the researchers spend most of their days. He bundles up and heads out into the cold night, takes a moment to stare in awe at the aurora in the sky. He’s seen it every day since polar night began but he still just cannot get enough of it. Brilliant greens and purples, swirling together, lighting his way. He has taken countless pictures of it, but nothing will ever, _ever_ compare to the real thing, right here in front of him. 

He gives himself a minute to take it in, memorize the pattern so he can describe it to Annabeth, then jogs until he reaches the building that is way too far away to use effectively—the reason he has been so disconnected from his friends since arriving. Once he’s inside the building he greets one of his team members and tries to inconspicuously make his way over to the corner everyone knows has the best WiFi. He gets yelled at as he unzips his parka and begs for just ten minutes, and he must be looking rough because they agree without any further argument. He calls Annabeth back, and when she answers her face is clear as day. He smiles widely, relief flooding his chest.

“Thank God,” he breathes out. “I was ready to lose it, man.”

She smiles a bit, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I think it was also me,” she says. “I was using data for some reason.”

“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me about your week. Weeks, actually. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” she mutters. “Sorry.” 

He shakes his head.

“No biggie.”

It’s been killing him. 

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, I just—I’m really sorry, Percy, what I was trying to say before—I’m just on my way out. Do you think we could talk tomorrow or something?”

He feels himself deflate, but he nods nonetheless.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Of course. I’ll talk to you soon,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as crushingly disheartened as he feels.

“Perfect. You can tell me all about that blue whale. What was her name?”

“Freja,” he tells her, smiling a bit, and she grins.

“Freja the Big Blue. Can’t wait to hear all the drama. Night, Perce.”

She hangs up, then, and he swallows hard, stares at the wall across from him until his eyes cross. He feels sick to his stomach with…something. Something wretched and awful, something he can’t totally place. Mostly, though, he is overwhelmingly disappointed, after looking forward to their call all day. After missing her for weeks only to lose her once more.

The sun hasn’t risen in far too long, and it’s eating him alive.

~ ~ ~

“If you try to tell me one more thing about your sex life, I swear to all that is holy, Piper, I will pour acid into my ears,” Percy says, and she cackles evilly. 

“Don’t be such a lousy virgin, Percy.”

“I am not a virgin, first of all.” She rolls her eyes. “Secondly, that has nothing to do with the fact that I am not interested in hearing about Jason’s hidden talents. I’m not even interested in his regular talents.”

“Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

“Listen, I love him, but the fact of the matter is that your boyfriend is a boring yuppie, and it’s time you come to terms with that.”

Her jaw drops in offense. 

“Fuck you! Take that back!”

“I will not.”

She frowns. 

“I’ll concede that he’s a yuppie.” He raises his eyebrows triumphantly. “But he is not boring.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at n—”

“PIPER MCLEAN IF YOU DON’T HELP ME PICK OUT AN OUTFIT FOR THIS DATE MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE.”

Percy can hear the shouting through the phone, and his eyes widen in shock for a moment as he registers the voice. It belongs to Annabeth, who comes into view once she collapses onto Piper’s lap. 

“Um,” Piper says awkwardly. “Say hi to Percy, Annabeth.”

He watches her freeze up and tries to school his features into a neutral expression as quickly as he can. She sits up and smiles uncomfortably, gives him a small wave.

“Hi, Percy,” she greets, and he feels like his chest is going to cave in on itself.

“Hey,” he says.

They are quiet for far too long, and Percy winces as Piper clears her throat.

“Anyway, so Jason’s a boring yuppie and this is super awkward and I’ve never been less comfortable ever in my life,” she says, and Percy puffs out his cheeks.

“I’ll let you guys go,” he says. “Um, talk to you soon, Pipes.”

Piper sends him an apologetic look and Annabeth seems to be preoccupied with the deep blush on her cheeks, looking down into her lap.

“Love you, Perce. That was a great photo of Frank out in the wild today, by the way. Keep ’em coming,” she says, and he smiles a bit.

“Oh, that reminds me—I think I’ve finally got an in with this penguin family; they’re really cliquey in the colony but these ones are so chill. I’ll update you once I know for sure they’ve accepted me as their own,” he says, and she laughs a bit.

“Please do.”

He feels awful for Annabeth, how uncomfortable she looks, so he looks at her.

“You, too, Chase,” he says, and she looks up at him, eyebrows knit. “Ye who questioned my ability to fraternize with the Emperors.” She smiles widely, then. “You’re gonna get a selfie of me with their babies, just you wait.”

She laughs a bit.

“I hope you get your eyes pecked out by a feral mother,” she tells him, and he sticks his tongue out at her.

“You’re just jealous,” he says haughtily, and she grins.

He smiles widely at her and winks just in time for the call to disconnect. He stares at his phone until the screen goes black, and then stares at it some more. 

He always knew, rationally, that this day would come. He knew when he made the decision he did nine months ago that he was doing it so as not to be some selfish asshole who made her wait for him. Really, she is doing exactly what Percy didn’t want to get in her way of in the first place—she is moving on, it seems. It doesn’t mean, though, that his chest is not aching and his throat is not tight and he doesn’t wish that he was there with her instead. 

He lies down on his bunk and throws his arm over his eyes to try and shut out the things around him. He needs a nap, something to quiet his mind and settle the discomfort in his chest. But he hears the door open and the familiar patter of footsteps that are just barely there and he is not surprised when he feels his mattress sink to the side.

“Rough day?” Yusra asks him, and he nods. 

“The sun hasn’t come up in months,” he mumbles. “I miss it.”

“Equinox is only a few days away,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, and for once this is something she does not understand. “Do you want to go eat your feelings and then watch the stupid movie they’re showing tonight?”

He peeks at her through the crack in his elbow.

“Which one is it?”

“March of the Penguins.”

He laughs hard at that, and she joins him, helps him sit up. She’s bundled up as if she’s just gotten back inside and her short black hair is tucked into her winter hat, just the ends peeking out around her chin. She looks so small under her massive coat that it makes him smile.

“What?” she says, shoving his shoulder, and he grins.

“You look so cute. Like an annoying marshmallow.”

She pushes his head into the wall behind them and moves over to her own bunk, starts to take off her many jackets and pants. He looks away even though she is still fully clothed and wearing about three layers, for no reason other than the fact that it feels too intimate. She is one of his best friends, now, but it still feels wrong, and he can’t place why.

When she’s done she leans down in front of him and tilts his head up, smirking at him, and their noses are way closer than they’ve ever been before.

“We should probably go before you combust, huh?” she says quietly, and he nods dumbly.

She straightens out and offers him her hand and he thinks about grey eyes and perfect posture and golden curls and he wants to sink into the sea. But he takes her hand, soft and smooth and so unlike another, because it’s all there is to do.

—

_A year after_

“So you mean to tell me,” Percy begins, outraged, yelling at both Hazel, who is on Frank’s laptop, and Frank, who is wincing beside him, “that you two hooked up while Frank was staying in New York last year, and you never bothered to _tell_ me? What the fuck? This is a disgrace!”

“Percy—” Frank tries, but Percy holds up his hand.

“You owed me nothing at the time Frank, we were friends but I understand your hesitation to let me know that you defiled my little sister,” Percy says, and Frank heaves out a sigh of relief, sinking into his chair a bit.

“Oh thank God,” he breathes.

Percy whirls on Hazel, then, leaning into the camera closely. 

“ _You_ on the other hand,” he begins, and she rolls her eyes, “you are not forgiven.”

“Oh fuck off Percy, that’s such a double standard,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You didn’t tell me that you kissed your new friend. _Frank_ was the one to tell me that.”

Frank’s eyes widen as Percy stares at him in shock and he sinks further into his chair and rolls himself away from Percy a bit.

“It was _once_ and it was on New Year’s at the countdown and—” 

He huffs out a frustrated breath. 

“It was fucking awful.”

Hazel’s jaw drops.

“That’s really mean, Percy.”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, I don’t mean—it was good. Very good actually, like, in terms of the mechanics.” 

Hazel scrunches up her face and he sighs heavily and collapses into the chair he’d abandoned in his earlier rage. 

“It was a good kiss. But it felt so fucking _wrong_ , you know? I don’t know. I just—it was nothing more than that. Just a kiss on New Year’s.”

“And she agreed with that?” Hazel asks, and he nods.

“Yeah. She said she’s glad it happened because now she knows for sure she never wants to do it again.”

Hazel laughs loudly at that and Percy rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off, man,” he says, but he’s grinning a bit. 

“You are such a shitty kisser,” she begins, still laughing, “that she made sure you knew—never—again.” 

She cackles some more and Percy threatens to end the call, but Frank surges forward to stop him. Percy raises one eyebrow at him and Frank blushes as Hazel coos about how Frank would never hang up on her.

“He can’t bring himself to do it,” she teases. “He’s so in love with me.”

His entire face turns a deep shade of crimson and Percy smiles widely and pats him on the back.

“It’s okay, kid. I don’t know _why_ you like her so much—she’s such a fuckin’ pest—”

“Hey!”

“—but I respect it.”

Frank lets his head fall onto his arms on the desk before them and Hazel giggles.

“We’re not even dating, can you believe him?” she says to Percy, and he grins. “He's so soft.”

Frank groans loudly.

“So what if I am?” he grumbles, looking up at the computer screen. “As if you’re not worse than me.”

Her jaw drops in offense.

“I am not!”

Frank grins, then, sits up straighter, suddenly emboldened.

“You so are,” he says. “Remember when I was sick and you literally _sang_ to me—”

“Frank Zhang, you shut your mouth right now!” she demands, and he smiles widely, satisfied after having unsettled her.

Percy whistles.

“Damn, Hazel,” he says. “Sounds a bit like you’re in love with Frank, too.”

She glares at him and crosses her arms over her chest.

“How I feel is none of your business,” she says, lifting her chin. “Neither of you.”

“I think it’s a little bit my business,” Frank objects, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“It’ll be your business once you finally make a move, you airhead.”

Frank’s eyes widen in surprise and Percy purses his lips and scoots back a bit.

“I’m gonna…I’ll go now,” he says, standing up. “Talk to you tomorrow, Hazy.”

“Love you, ugly. Even though you’re a little instigator.”

“Well, if the airhead finally makes a move then you’ll be thanking me later.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

They both look at Frank, who is back to blushing like crazy, and he clears his throat.

“Please fuck off,” he mutters to no one in particular, and both Hazel and Percy grin.

Hopefully he can take a hint. Or ten.

Later, Percy is hanging out with Yusra in the common room arguing over whether hummus tastes better topped with meat (it doesn’t, and she is an absolute disgrace for suggesting otherwise). He must have WiFi, because his phone rings and he sees it’s a FaceTime from Hazel, who has a massive grin on her face.

“I’m guessing it worked?” he asks, and she laughs evilly.

“You were so good. _You never bothered to tell me_? Just perfect, you are a star,” she tells him.

He grins.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bowing his head a bit. “As if you wouldn’t tell me immediately after it happened.” 

“He really thought he was the first to break the news to me about you and Miss Antarctica?”

Percy laughs hard at that, and Yusra whacks his arm.

“Miss Antarctica has a _name_ ,” she says, and Percy grins as Hazel’s face drops.

“Sorry Yusra,” she calls out. “You’re so pretty and nice and smart for dodging a bullet with Percy and—”

“Alright, fuck off,” Percy cuts in, and Hazel grins.

“I’m guessing this has something to do with our favorite Canadian?” Yusra asks, and Percy nods.

“Frank’s a dummy. Just needed a little push,” Hazel explains.

“He’s so sweet, I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Hazel sighs. “I can’t believe he thought I wouldn’t tell you, Perce. He must not know me at all.”

“He knows you,” Percy says. “He just doesn’t know how much we overshare.”

She hums in agreement.

“He’ll learn soon enough.”

~ ~ ~

“No, you don’t understand,” Annabeth says. “It was _massive_. Like, the size of a small dog. And the fucking tail nest, all of them stuck  together—it was horrifying.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Percy responds. “There’s no way.”

“There’s a way! I saw him! It was the Rat King!”

He laughs a bit at her insistence, the wild look in her eyes. It’s the first semi-normal conversation they’ve had in far too long, and he wants it to last for as long as humanly possible. If they go back to whatever fucking awkward tension was going on before, he will give up and officially become One with the Penguins. He could have a nice life with them, he thinks.

“I believe you _think_ you saw him,” Percy says, and she huffs at him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“What do you know? You’re probably just jealous because I saw him before you.”

“Annabeth—that’s so—there’s no Rat King in Montauk. That’s insanity.”

She raises her chin defiantly.

“I know what I saw,” she begins, and he groans. “And it was clear as day. The Rat King in all his glory.”

Percy smiles widely and she shrugs, still far too defensive about it.

“I will not concede this point,” he says. “In fact, I will die on this hill. But I do not think it’s worth wasting precious WiFi on when we haven’t spoken in, like, forever. Tell me about your life, dude, what’s been happening?”

She becomes visibly uncomfortable, and Percy knits his eyebrows in concern.

“It was him,” she insists, and he swallows.

He hears her message loud and clear.

~ ~ ~

“Happy New Year, bitch!” Thalia shouts into the phone in lieu of a greeting. 

“Thalia, New Year’s was like three weeks ago,” Percy tells her.

“Yeah, and we haven’t spoken since December, asshole, it’s not my fault I’m not on your high-priority list of people you talk to every day.”

He juts out his lower lip.

“I talk to Reyna quite often, actually—”

“Fuck _you—_ ”

“Alright, enough,” Reyna says, taking the phone from Thalia. “Hi, Percy.”

He smiles widely.

“The woman of the hour,” he sighs. “Finally.”

“I’m gonna kill him, I will do it—”

“Sh, this is my time, now,” Reyna says, quieting her wife, and Thalia grumbles and crosses her arms over her chest. 

Reyna winks at Percy and he grins.

“How’s the album coming along?” Percy asks, and Reyna groans.

“It sucks. I hate everything about post-production. But we’re almost done, _finally_ , after a year of not being on the road. I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“What will you do first?”

“Have a wedding.”

He feels his eyes bulge out of his head as he gapes at them.

“ _What_? When did you decide this? When will it happen? How did it happen? Why is it happening? Is anyone gonna answer me?”

Thalia grins and rolls her eyes.

“Relax, we only decided at Christmas,” she tells him. “It’ll happen in August. The decision was made because I realized that I want to show my wife off to all our friends.” Reyna grimaces at her but she smiles with her eyes closed and Reyna huffs and kisses her quickly. “It is happening because we love each other. Did that answer your questions?”

Percy purses his lips.

“Can I be the ring bearer?” he asks, and Reyna laughs.

“We already promised Leo,” Reyna tells him.

“What the fuck? What about best man?”

“Nico is my best man,” Reyna tells him. 

“Jason’s mine,” Thalia says, and he grimaces.

“I’m guessing Hazel is your flower girl, then?”

“God, you know she’d never forgive us otherwise,” Reyna says, and he sighs heavily.

“What about Annabeth?” he asks. 

“Oh, she’s in charge of absolutely everything, along with Piper. It’s all them.”

“Makes sense.” He pauses and pulls at a piece of lint on his sleeve. “How is she, by the way? Haven’t really talked to her in a while.”

“She’s alright. Surprisingly good, actually, considering,” Thalia says, and Reyna elbows her not so indiscreetly.

He knits his eyebrows.

“Considering what?” They are both quiet. “Considering what, you information-withholding assholes?”

“She was seeing this girl, it didn’t work out,” Reyna finally says.

He frowns.

“That sucks,” he mutters. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

They both raise their eyebrows at him and he knits his eyebrows.

“She’s my friend first and foremost,” he says. “I never would’ve—I mean, I wanted her to be happy. I’d prefer excruciating detail over all the weird shallow conversations we’ve been having lately.”

“Maybe she didn’t see a good reason to,” Reyna says. “She seems happier now than she was when they were together.”

“Yeah?” Reyna nods. “Good. She deserves as much.”

“I for one knew it wasn’t going to work out,” Thalia remarks, and Percy knits his eyebrows. “Her heart wasn’t in it, you know?”

“Where was it?” Percy asks, as casually as he can manage, and Thalia starts grinning like a madwoman.

“Thalia—” Reyna tries to stop her wife, but Thalia is already leaning forward.

“June feels closer than ever, don’t you think?” Thalia says, that wicked smile still on her face, and he can’t help but smile so widely his cheeks start to hurt.

Suddenly the room seems a little brighter, as if summer’s come early. As if June is right around the corner.

It does feel that way, doesn’t it?

—

_Fifteen months after_

“Listen, if you think about it, it actually really does make sense,” Percy says, and Annabeth just stares at him. “Who’s to say there really aren’t creatures of the sea that we don’t know about?”

“You mean to tell me,” she begins slowly, “you mean to tell me—you believe in mermaids?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely I do.”

“Percy—Percy.” She takes a moment to breathe. “You’re out of your fucking mind. I’m sorry to tell you but you have lost your last marble and it’s just absolutely heartbreaking to watch.”

“No, fuck that. Fuck _that_. You’re allowed to believe in _shapeshifters_ but I’m not allowed to believe in a totally reasonable theory—”

“It is not totally reasonable. You’re talking about myths here, you’re talking about half-fish half-people! That’s insanity. And I don’t believe in shapeshifters. I believe in a subterranean species that may be able to pass as human.”

“You hypocrite. You’re literally trying to convince me that subterranean _cryptids_ exist and you won’t even hear a word about mermaids? 95 percent of the world’s oceans remain unexplored. 95! There are far too many things that can be lurking in 95 percent of our waters. There are not subterranean shape-shifters living among us. We know what’s under the earth. It’s more earth.”

“No, no, no, no, no. No. You have no real idea of how many tunnel systems exist in the US alone. You can’t just say we know what’s under the earth—we don’t.”

“Well, we don’t know what’s in the oceans either.”

“Fine! Mermaids are a possibility, are you happy?”

“Extremely. Cryptids are fake.”

“Oh, fuck you, Jackson, I’m taking you to court.”

He snorts.

“What for?”

“Emotional distress. You’re driving me up a fuckin’ wall.”

He smiles, widely, then.

“That’s my job, though,” he says, and she grimaces.

“I thought I hired you to sit around and look pretty,” she says, and he grins.

“I’m an incredible multitasker.”

“Hmph.” She purses her lips as she looks him over. “That you are.”

~ ~ ~

“Well it’s a good thing you’re nowhere near this continent because I’m sure you’d find some way to set the ice on fire,” Percy says after watching Leo nearly scorch off his eyebrows in his lab.

Leo coughs and waves the smoke out of his face, looking absolutely miserable.

“Everything I touch goes up in flames,” he says sadly. “What the fuck?”

Percy frowns. 

“Sorry, kid. At least you find out sooner rather than later,” Percy tries to reason, then pauses. “Usually.”

Leo sighs heavily. 

“I guess. Anyway, look at this muscle definition, I’m shredded now.”

He flexes his skinny arm in the camera and Percy grins, biting the inside of his cheek. Leo’s biceps are definitely more _defined_ , but Percy’s not sure he would describe his friend as anything close to shredded.

“What do you bench? 250?” Percy asks, doing his best not to laugh, and Leo deflates a bit.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re an asshole, Perseus.”

Percy gasps.

“Who fucking told you?”

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Her name rhymes with Banana-meth.”

“I’m gonna shove her into the Hudson River.”

Leo snorts. 

“As if. The second she looks at you you’re gonna bend the knee and pledge your life to her, probably,” he says, and Percy flattens his lips.

“And what?” he responds, and Leo grins wickedly.

“You’re cute when you’re in love. Makes me sick. But I’m still fully invested.”

“Fuck off. You’re supposed to be rooting for _our_ marriage, I thought.”

Leo sighs and starts scribbling on a notepad in front of him, his curls falling over his eyes.

“I’ll get you one day,” he says. “For now you two are just too adorable not to root for.”

“There’s not really a… _you two_ , currently,” Percy mutters and Leo rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I give it about five minutes from the time you get back for that to change.”

“Whatever,” Percy says, trying to sound grumpy, but the smile on his face is undeniable.

Leo finally looks up at the camera and groans when he sees Percy’s face, then hangs up without even saying goodbye. 

Oh well. He’ll be home soon enough.

~ ~ ~

“She’s back?” Annabeth yells. “Freja is back? With a _baby_?”

“Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to _tell you,_ man. And Victor the suspected baby daddy is nowhere to be found.”

“Holy shit, it just gets better and better.”

She eats a handful of popcorn, eyes wide, and Percy laughs a bit.

“You have no idea how caddy the Antarctic seas can get,” Percy tells her, and she shakes her head.

“Damn, this is crazy. And you’re saying that Susan—”

“Sawsan,” Percy corrects. “She’s an Arab Antarctic whale.”

Annabeth grins.

_“So-sun,”_ Annabeth tries again, and Percy gives her a thumbs up. “So Sawsan the Arab Antarctic blue whale is _also_ back, but no baby to be found?”

Percy sighs sadly.

“Yeah. She has a really bad laceration down her right side, so the team thinks there must have been an accident or something.”

Annabeth’s lip trembles.

“That’s so sad,” she mutters, and Percy nods.

“We were all rooting for her,” he says. “It’s really upsetting. Especially since they’re already so endangered.”

He clears his throat and does his best not to think about the loss, but it’s been particularly difficult. The team has been doing their best to take care of the injured animal, but she doesn’t usually come close enough, and she’s been elusive at best lately. They’re all incredibly worried about her.

“On the bright, side, though,” he says, forcing himself not to dwell too much on the current state of his favorite whale, “she looks really healthy. Blue whales usually only travel in pairs and or alone but any time we see Sawsan, Freja and her baby are always around.”

Annabeth breaks, then, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Holy shit, they’re best friends,” she croaks, and Percy nods.

“It’s so goddamn wholesome,” he says, doing his best not to crack.

“Fuck. Why’d you tell me that? Oh God.”

She wipes at her face and Percy laughs a bit, but dabs at his own eyes as well.

“It’s beautiful, it’s a fucking beautiful thing,” he says. “God, I wish I was a blue whale.”

“I thought you said if you could be any animal you’d wanna be a sunfish.”

He grins.

“I said I identify with the sunfish. Giant fucking monstrosities that are dumber than dirt. That is me,” he says, and she laughs.

“Shut up, you are not dumber than dirt.” She pauses then. “So you named Sawsan? They let you?”

“Me and Yusra did, yeah,” he says, and she nods a bit, quiets. “Yusra, who is my friend and only my friend and who will remain my friend and only my friend forever because I will never think of her as anything other than my friend and only—”

“Your friend, I get it,” Annabeth says, but she is smiling so widely Percy thinks her face might split in half. 

“ _We’re_ friends,” she mutters innocently, examining her bowl of popcorn, and Percy rolls his eyes.

“Best friends,” he agrees. “And yet every time I see the sunset I am reminded of how I’m that much closer to getting back to you.”

She grins down into the bowl, her cheeks tinting pink, and he wants to die. It is quite possibly the corniest thing he has ever said, but damn it if it isn’t the absolute truth. 

She’s at her apartment in her pajamas, wearing a sweater so big she’s basically swimming in it. She looks soft and warm and extremely huggable and he's never really longed to be home as badly as he does in this moment. Her hair is pulled up into a bun but a few stubborn curls have fallen loose, and in the dim yellow light of her lamp she looks so beautiful that it makes Percy’s chest ache.

“Not to mention it’s _your_ terrible Italian accent I fall asleep to every night, isn’t it?”

She grins and looks up at him.

“Every night?”

“Like clockwork. The second you get to page 8 I’m out like a light.”

She smiles even wider, then.

“How do you like my Theo?”

“It’s truly disgusting.”

She laughs, then, and he grins, rests his chin on his arms in front of him.

“I’d prefer it in person, though,” he mutters, and she smiles softly.

“Are you asking me to read to you when you get back?”

He nods.

“Preferably until I fall asleep.”

She raises her eyebrows and he tries to suppress his smile but fails miserably. 

“How very forward of you, Perseus.”

He sobers up, then.

“Bastard. _That’s_ what I had to yell at you about!”

—

_Eighteen months after_

“PERSEUS JACKSON!”

The second Percy makes it out past customs to his departure gate he hears his name being screamed so loudly that the people around him startle. He grins widely and tries his hardest not to sprint towards the source of the sound, but his excitement wins and he nearly clips an older woman with a walker as he runs past the people in front of him. And then Hazel is flinging herself at him and he is picking her up and spinning her around and they’re both laughing and shouting and being the most disruptive people in the airport. He could not care less—he’s missed her far too much to be concerned with anyone else. 

“You look so good—”

“Your _beard_ —”

“These braids—”

“You’re _jacked_ , Percy—”

“Did you get taller?”

They stop then, and Hazel’s eyes widen in excitement.

“ _Did I_ get taller?” she yells, and he laughs.

He looks down at her feet.

“Platforms, dummy,” he says, whacking her over the head with his passport, and she sighs.

“Oh, yeah,” she mutters sadly, and that’s when Percy hears a throat clear and he immediately shoves Hazel out of the way and throws himself into his mother’s open arms.

She squeezes him so tightly he feels himself come back together, feels all his loose parts clicking back into place, and he sighs and buries his face in her hair, grateful for her presence. Rose water and cocoa butter, just like always. One sharp and piercing, the other soft and saccharine. It's the strangest fucking mix of fragrances possible, but she manages to maintain both.

They spend probably too much time just hugging each other, and when they pull away they both laugh and wipe at each other’s faces.

“Let’s go home, _hayati_ ,” his mom says, and he nods and kisses her forehead. “I have so much to tell you. Turns out you were right about Moustafa Arshad—bad, bad boy.”

He cannot describe how happy he is to be back home.

That is until he feels the late June heat hit him in a wave and he nearly fucking collapses. He has not been in weather so hot in over a year and a half, and it’s absolutely jarring how much he manages to sweat from the moment he steps foot outside the airport to the moment they arrive at his mother’s apartment, where he’ll be staying until he figures out his next move. It’s early in the evening, the sun not even that high in the sky, but the building is sweltering and Percy hopes against hope that the window units are on full blast because he can’t bear the heat for a second longer. 

When they step inside he has about a millisecond to register that the air _is_ on before he is bombarded by a chorus of SURPRISE that nearly makes him shit himself. The small living room and tiny kitchen are full of the people he loves, everyone gathered to welcome him home. His eyes scan over the room, looking for one person in particular, and he deflates a bit when he realizes Annabeth is absent. He greets everyone in turn, grateful for their being here despite his disappointment, and does his best not to think about who’s missing. He is frowning over Piper’s head when she suddenly appears out of the hallway, shaking her wet hands frantically, like she couldn’t be bothered to dry them. 

She looks ruffled and nervous and her hair is absolutely everywhere, but holy shit he has never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. The second she catches his eye feels like the moment the sky has mercy on the ground and allows the clouds to part and the sun to shine as brightly as it pleases.

“Surprise,” she says a little weakly, and he laughs and moves over to her, grabs her in a hug. 

He wraps his arms around her shoulders, intent on pulling her as closely into his chest as humanly possible. She winds her arms around his torso and squeezes him tightly, one, two, onetwo, and he nearly fucking cries as he squeezes her right back. He buries his nose in her hair and shuts his eyes and takes it all in, because holy shit. He has been waiting for this moment since the second he left her, and now that she is here, in his arms, he can’t believe it’s actually real.

“God, I missed you so much,” he breathes, and she nestles her nose into his neck.

“I missed you so, so much,” she mumbles, and he grins.

“You just had to one-up me, didn’t you?” he says, and she laughs and pinches his side, but doesn’t pull away. 

“Had to get you back, didn’t I?”

He hums and holds her closer and takes a deep breath.

“We’re just gonna stay like this for the rest of the party, right?” she says, her breath fanning over his neck, and he feels goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Yeah. Fuck those other losers.”

She laughs and one of those other losers throws a pillow at his back but there is nothing in the world that could make him let her go right now. Except for a whack on the head from Sally Jackson. That does it.

Despite the fact that they are no longer hugging, they are in constant contact for the entirety of the party, never straying far from each other. An arm around her waist, hands interlocked, legs pressed together, her head on his shoulder, a kiss pressed to her temple. Touch-starved is an understatement—he has been away from her for far too long, has not seen the sun in a year and a half. He will bask in the light for as long as he can, will not let her go again. 

The one time they actually move apart Percy just ends up stealing glances at her from across the room. He is in total awe of her, still shocked at the fact that he’s actually back and she is really in the same place as him. He feels it with all his friends, obviously, but—it’s Annabeth, for fuck’s sake. Sunlight and eyes like a thunderstorm and rough palms and soft hair and a thousand contradictions all wrapped into one. Good ones, now. The best kind.

She catches his eye and smiles widely, rolling her eyes, and he grins and nods his head, beckoning her over. She raises one eyebrow at him and repeats the motion back to him, then continues on her conversation, a small smile teasing at her lips. He moves over to her without a second thought— his stubbornness cannot outweigh his need to have her in his space. 

Just like he promised himself. No more holding back.

They’re talking to Silena and Clarisse, Annabeth’s arm around his waist and his wrapped around her shoulders, when Clarisse gets up to get a drink.

“Need anything babe?” she says, looking down at Silena, and she shakes her head.

“I’m good. Thank you, though.”

Silena lifts her chin up and Clarisse leans down to meet her in a kiss, then heads off to the kitchen and—

“Wait, _what_?” Percy exclaims. “What the fuck? Since _when_? Where? Why? How?”

Silena giggles.

“Oh, did I forget to mention it last time we spoke?” she says, and he stares at her.

“Silena Beauregard if you do not explain yourself this instant.”

She smiles widely as Clarisse returns, and Silena reaches up and gives her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Clarisse smiles, looking almost giddy, and Percy’s head feels like it might explode.

“We’ve been dating for a couple of months now,” Silena says, and Percy continues to stare at her. “Oh. You’re wondering about Charlie.”

He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Annabeth nudges him not so subtly. 

Silena waves her hand dismissively.

“No big deal. He got a job offer with this Australian organization that’s basically like NASA. He’s been trying to get there for so long, it’s been his dream, you know? I couldn’t tell him not to go.” Percy nods and she nestles further into Clarisse’s side. “But it’s a five-year contract and…my dream is here. So we went our separate ways. No harm done.”

She smiles widely, then, grinning up at Clarisse.

“And I have a super hot girlfriend, now, so that helps.”

Clarisse smiles widely and kisses her girlfriend and Percy’s stomach warms at the sight of them, finally together. When they pull away Clarisse winks at him and he can’t help the massive smile that overcomes his face. He may or may not be a tiny little bit misty-eyed.

“I am so—” he takes a moment, trying not to choke on his words, and Clarisse groans as Silena giggles, “—so happy for you guys.”

Annabeth laughs and brushes at his eyes, kisses him on the cheek.

“You’re so fucking soft,” she laughs, and he sniffles.

“Fuck off, my friends are in love,” he mumbles, wiping at his eye, but he cannot deny how his cheek is still burning in the wake of her kiss.

“Thank you, Percy,” Silena says. 

“Little bitch,” Clarisse mutters, but she’s smiling fondly.

Silena hits Clarisse with the back of her hand gently.

“We’re happy for you guys, too,” Silena adds, and Percy and Annabeth raise their eyebrows at each other.

They have a silent conversation, narrowing their eyes at each other, trying to gauge what the other person might do. Percy watches as Annabeth’s expression goes from contemplative to downright amused, her eyes lighting up and her face softening. She knocks her forehead into his and then turns back to their friends.

“Thank you,” she says, and, well—yeah. 

He’d be lying if he tried to deny that this is the happiest he’s ever felt.

Once it’s time for everyone to go, they all help Sally clear up the mess they’ve made, washing dishes, wiping down tables, taking out the trash. She thanks them all by sending each of them home with a container full of cookies (double for the Stolls, those bastards), and kisses them all on the cheek as they leave, until only Annabeth is left. The sky is dark, now, and she lives on the other side of the park, so he offers to walk her home. Purely because it’s far and late and she will be safer this way, and for no other reason at all.

Sally raises an eyebrow at him as he slips on his shoes and he sticks his tongue out at her while Annabeth’s back is turned.

“Be back soon, Mama,” he says, and kisses her on the head, then makes his way out with Annabeth.

“I am perfectly capable of walking myself home,” Annabeth says once they’re outside, her hand finding his, locking their fingers together.

“I am aware of this,” he responds, looking straight ahead.

He looks down at her, then, grinning.

“Perhaps I wasn’t ready to say goodnight,” he admits, and she smiles up at him widely.

“Perhaps I wasn’t either.”

They could take the subway and get to her neighborhood much more quickly, skip the walk, but as they stroll right past the 86th Street station it seems as though they reach a tacit agreement. Percy pulls her closer into his side and she lifts their hands to kiss the back of his. She’s probably repeated that exact motion a hundred times tonight, but his skin still buzzes at the feeling, and he knows it will never get old. 

When they finally arrive at her apartment building, thirty-five teasing and enlivening and suspenseful minutes later, she turns to face him. 

“I’m really glad you’re back,” she says, looking very closely at her hands gripping the front of his shirt. 

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in closer.

“Just really glad?” he asks, bumping his nose against her forehead, and she purses her lips as she looks up at him.

“Ecstatic. Over-joyed. Through the roof.”

Their noses brush against each other and Percy wonders if she can feel the way his heart starts pumping into overdrive where her hand rests on his chest. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s good to see you, too,” he somehow manages to say, and she pulls back and narrows her eyes at him.

“You are truly insufferable.”

He pouts and lifts his hand to her jaw, brings her back into his space. Soft skin and bright eyes and a grudging smile that he can’t wait a second longer to feel pressed against his own. She rubs her nose against his and exhales a soft little thing that makes his heart stutter, barely lets their lips brush. Percy feels his heartbeat in his throat as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“You’re such a tease,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over her own.

“Now you know how it feels,” she whispers back.

And then finally, _gloriously_ , they give in at the same time, their lips meeting with the same eagerness. Hers are soft and warm and as they press against his he feels a fire burning in his belly, relief crashing over him in a wave. He has waited for this moment for so long that it almost feels fake, like a dream, and she is far too easy to get lost in. He loses track of time out there with her, and it doesn’t help when she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him down even closer towards her, despite the fact that there is absolutely no space left between them. He moves his hand up her back and she runs her fingers through his hair and there is not a single nerve in his body that isn’t on high alert, tensed up and alight with an energy he can’t contain. 

Some distant voice in the back of his head reminds him that they’re in the middle of a busy sidewalk and the people around them did not ask to bear witness to their display, but a much louder and clearer voice says that they can fuck right off. After having been away from her for so long, he thinks he gets to take his time with her. They deserve as much.

When someone passing by knocks into them and keeps on walking like nothing happened, Annabeth pulls away to call out a “watch it, asshole!” over her shoulder, to which the person responds by flipping her off over their head. She laughs a little breathlessly and the part of Percy that bristles at the insult to her shrivels and dies as he watches her face light up with amusement. She turns back to him and he kisses her once, twice, two more times, and she returns it in kind and rests her forehead against his.

“God, I’ve been waiting, like, two years for that,” he breathes. “More, even.”

“More, huh?” she teases and pulls back to grin up at him. “How long exactly?”

He exhales through his nose and purses his lips in thought and she steals another quick kiss before he answers.

“Well, what day did you play Terminal 5?” he asks, and she smiles widely.

“You’ve been pining since the moment you laid eyes on me, haven’t you?”

“I thought I made that incredibly clear with all those fuckin’ pictures I took.”

She laughs and kisses him again and he tangles his fingers into her hair, presses closer.

“You’re such a dork,” she mumbles against his lips, and he smiles as she pulls back the tiniest bit. “You’re really fuckin’ hot, though.”

He laughs at that, digs his nose into her cheek, and she laughs along with him, then presses her smile against his. He does his best to contain it but he is just too fucking happy to stop grinning long enough to give her a proper kiss, and eventually they give up and end up laughing together. She nestles her face into his neck and kisses it gently and he rubs his thumb in small circles behind her ear, leans his nose on the top of her head.

“You think Sally’s worried you’re taking so long?” she mutters, tangling her fingers in his curls. 

“She’s probably ecstatic right now, she’s been waiting for this as long as we have,” he laughs, and he feels her smile into his skin.

“I think we might be able to find my copy of ’ _Fraidy Mouse_ upstairs,” Annabeth says quietly, and he grins widely.

He tries to pull away so he can get a look at her face but she keeps it buried in his neck and refuses to let him go.

“How very forward of you, Annabeth,” he says, resting his chin on the top of her head, and she laughs a bit.

“Figured I should return the favor.”

“Well, who am I to refuse such gracious hospitality?”

Night has fallen but the city is alive and buzzing and as the breeze picks up and Annabeth tugs him into her building he is certain the sky has never been so bright.

—

_A year and nine months after_

“Mama?” Percy calls as he steps into his mother’s apartment, dead on his feet. “You home?”

“Gimme a minute, _hayati_!” she calls back, so he kicks off his shoes and lets himself fall onto one of the chairs at the tiny dining table.

He loosens his tie and drops his head onto his arms, tries to fight off the slimy feeling he has. A shower. He needs a shower. He needs to wash off the disgusting grime on his skin in the hottest water possible, and forget that today ever even happened.

“Hi, _habibi_ ,” his mother greets, scratching at his head. “ _Shai_?”

He sits up, then.

“I’ll do it,” he says, standing, but she pushes him back into his hair and gives him a stern look.

He needs something to do other than just think, though, so takes off his suit jacket and helps her anyway, grabs their glass pot from the tall top shelf she can never reach, fills it with water as she gets the teabags. They work in silence, moving around each other expertly, seamlessly. This, he thinks, is the easiest part of their relationship. Once the difficult push and pull of accepting each other’s help is out of the way, the act itself is so simple. Grabbing something she can’t reach, making something she knows he loves, cleaning up so she doesn’t have to. There is no one else in the world either of them is so intuitively connected with, exactly as it should be. 

He drops a kiss onto her head as he places the full pot on top of the burner which she’s already lit, then leans against the counter across from her as she turns to face him.

“So,” she begins. “Tough day?”

He nods and she frowns.

“Was he there?” He nods again. “Did you beat the shit out of him like he deserves?”

He laughs a bit. “I wanted to. So badly. But no.”

“You should’ve let me come. I could’ve done it for you.”

Percy smiles widely, has no doubt in his mind that his mother would kill a man for him if it came down to it. 

“That’s exactly why I made you stay home,” he tells her. “He’s a dickhead—would’ve definitely pressed charges.”

“You should be the one pressing charges against him, that asshole.”

He sighs heavily. “Next best thing. Disciplinary hearing.”

“So, what? He gets suspended then gets his job back so he can do it all over again?”

“Firing seemed to be the punishment on the table.”

Sally raises her eyebrows. 

“Hmph. Not good enough, but it’ll have to do.”

He nods absently, biting at the inside of his cheek, and she looks him over, concern evident on her face.

“I’m sorry these things seem to follow you around, _habibi_. These horrible, terrible monsters.” He knows what’s coming next, and he tries to stop it, but she holds up her hand. “I put you in that position first. And I regret it every day.”

“Mama, please,” he says. “You can’t keep carrying around all of that guilt. You’ll—you’ll turn into me.”

She smiles a little sadly, moves forward to hold his face in her hands.

“ _Habibi_ , I will never let that go. I can’t, as your mother. I was supposed to protect you.”

“You did,” he tells her. “You protected me from more than you can know. We had a roof over our heads and food and water and things that a lot of people don’t. I’m grateful for it, Mama. I'm grateful for you.”

She frowns and he kisses her forehead and pulls her in for a hug.

“I’m grown now. I’m 27 years old, older than you were when you had me. I know that you did what you had to do. Enough, now. Time to move on. You made your choices and I’ve made mine. We’re okay. We’re safe.”

He kisses her head and she hugs him a little closer.

“I’m supposed to be the one saying all the smart stuff,” she mutters, and he laughs a bit. “I’m so proud of you, _hayati_. Of the man you’ve become.”

He feels his throat constrict and his chest start to heave a bit and he forces himself to listen. To believe her. He does, now. And he believes more than just the fact that she is proud. He believes that she has something to be proud of, too. He kisses her head again.

“Even though I brought home a white girl?” he asks, and she laughs hard, pulls back from him and whacks his arm. 

“Yes. But I had my doubts at first.” He smiles widely and she grins, but then it fades as she wags her finger at him. “But if my grandkids don’t know how to speak _3arabee_ or forget where they come from—” 

She circles together her thumb and forefinger, holds her last three fingers together and waves her hand back and forth, and his eyes widen. The universal sign for an ass-beating. A sure-fire precursor to having a house slipper thrown at your head. 

“I will kidnap them and raise them as my own.”

He smiles widely as the water finally starts to boil and moves past her to shut the stove off and drop the teabags inside.

“Don’t worry, Mama,” he says. “They’re gonna call you _Siti_ and drink _shai_ with you and they’re gonna eat _[mansaf](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mansaf#:~:text=Mansaf%20\(Arabic%3A%20%D9%85%D9%86%D8%B3%D9%81%E2%80%8E\),dish%20eaten%20throughout%20the%20Levant.&text=The%20name%20of%20the%20dish,%22%20or%20%22large%20dish%22.)_ with their grubby little hands.”

He turns around to see that she’s narrowing her eyes at him, just barely fighting off a smile.

“They better.”

He smiles widely and kisses her head and leads her over to the table so they can wait for their tea to steep.

“Our first daughter will be named Salwa,” he tells her, pulling his seat closer to her. 

She laughs.

“Don’t do that to her,” she tells him, and the smile falls off her face. “It’s worse now than it ever was when I was young. You can’t do that to her.”

He frowns and takes her hand in his, kisses it.

“Mama, we can’t hide who we are,” he tells her. “I know— _3ammi_ Taha, I know he was trying to protect you. I know you were trying to protect me. But we can’t change who we are just by changing our names. And we shouldn’t have to, either. That’s not fair to any of us—we’re not going to settle for that.” She knits her eyebrows and nods a bit. “Your name is Salwa Jayyusi. You should be proud of that.” She smiles softly and he kisses her hand again. “My name—well.” He frowns. “Perseus Jayyusi?”

She laughs a bit.

“What should we change it to?”

“Berseus,” he says, switching out the P and rolling his r.

She laughs hard, snorting once, and he grins widely.

“We’ll think of something,” she laughs, and he leans his head on her shoulder.

“No, I’ll keep it,” he mutters. “It’s the name you gave me. I’ll wear it proudly.”

“Perseus Jackson does sound better, though,” she says, running her hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, Percy Jackson is pretty badass.” He pauses. “Salwa Jayyusi even more so. Sounds like a hero’s name, don’t you think?”

“Mm,” she hums. “I’ll save the world one cup of _shai_ at a time.”

“It’s how you saved me.”

She sighs heavily and kisses the top of his head.

“I really raised a kiss-ass, huh?”

He laughs hard at that and she chuckles, runs her fingers through his hair. She pushes his curls back from his forehead and kisses the spot gently and he shuts his eyes, lets the feeling wash over him.

Salwa Jayyusi reclaims her name, and now it is time for a new promise. One from her son, to remind her of all she has to be proud of, and one from herself, to remember who she is. 

They are safe, now. They can speak their names with pride.

Sally Jackson of the Upper East Side becomes Salwa Jayyusi of Ein Karem once more, and with her son by her side she knows more than ever before that this is who she has always been. She will not hide it for fear any longer.

—

_Two years after_

“Percy, you have to turn as I lift, or else this is never going to work,” Annabeth says. 

“I’m turning,” he insists. “Try going to your left.”

“Ugh, we did that already and you almost died, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

They exhale at the same time. 

“Do we really need a couch?” he asks, and she hums in thought. “We could always just get some cushions and sit on the floor. We’d be honoring my bedouin roots and saving so much time and money. And back pain.”

She groans.

“Percy, don’t tempt me right now, you know for a fact I’ll toss this thing over the railing and be done with it.”

“Please be done with it,” he begs, and she shakes her head.

“No. We’re doing this. I’m going to lift and tilt at a 20-degree angle and you are going to turn at 45 and this is going to happen or I will set this whole fucking place on fire.”

He feels his eyes widen and he nods.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and she takes a deep breath.

“Ready?” He nods. “Now.”

Her plan fails, he nearly falls backward down the stairs again, and it takes them three more reverses and twelve tries to finally make it past the stupid turn in the staircase. 

“I should’ve known,” Annabeth gasps once they’ve made it inside and collapsed onto their couch. “ _I_ needed to go 45. You should’ve been going 20.”

“You’re a beautiful genius,” he breathes, then stretches out across her lap. “Let’s sleep now.”

“The _bed_ , Percy.”

“Kill me.”

Three hours and four thousand trips later, they are finally finished unpacking everything they might need for their kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. All their clothes are forgotten for now, because they are too fucking tired to even think about going near any more boxes, and they are in desperate need of proper rest.

“We have so many friends,” Percy says as they finally lie down in their new bed. “Why the fuck didn’t we call them?”

“We did. They’re a bunch of assholes,” Annabeth informs him as she tucks into his side and rests her cheek on his shoulder. “I am so impossibly _exhausted_. The thought of getting up to pee right now is making me want to cry.”

“Do you have to pee?”

“No, but the _thought_ of it.”

He laughs and kisses her forehead and she snuggles even closer to him, throws her leg across his and rests her hand on his chest. He intertwines their fingers and brings her knuckles to his lips as they lie together, just breathing. 

“I can’t believe we did all that work when we’re only gonna be here for like three weeks,” he says after a few moments. 

They are quiet until Annabeth starts laughing wildly, and then they are both hysterical, their exhaustion finally breaking them. She buries her face in his chest as she tries to fight off the last of her giggles, and he tugs on one of her curls.

“Please don’t remind me,” she whines. “It’s for Grover and Juniper.”

He sighs heavily.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says. “How convenient that they weren’t around to help.”

“Grover is having a flare-up and Juniper is so pregnant she's ready to burst.”

“All I’m hearing are excuses.”

She bites his collarbone and he pinches her neck.

“You’re just lazy and bitter,” she says, leaning up and bumping her nose against his.

“So what if I am?” he mutters. “It’s been a long day.”

She grins and kisses him gently, pulls herself up to lie down on his chest. He rests his hand on her neck and draws lazy circles behind her ear with his thumb. She pulls back and for a few quiet moments they just breathe together, her nose resting against his chin, and he shuts his eyes as she reaches up and tugs gently on his ear. She is soft and warm and weighing down on his chest in the best possible way, and he starts to doze off, feeling safer than he ever has.

“Have you ever done any whacky shit to get a good picture?” she asks him suddenly, pulling him back to consciousness.

“Hm,” he hums, his eyes still shut. “One time I made like a hat of…mm, twigs and branches and stuff.” He yawns. “Put it on and waded through a river to get a shot of some really flighty otters. One of them ended up attacking me.”

She laughs brightly at that, and he grins, turns his head to kiss her hand that’s playing with his ear. 

“Why do you ask?” he mutters against her skin, and she nestles her nose into his chest.

“I can only fall asleep if I think about things that make me happy.”

“Me getting attacked by an otter makes you happy?”

“Extremely. It’s the best thing you could’ve said.”

He pinches her wrist gently and she kisses his collarbone. 

“Thinking about you at all makes me happy,” she mutters. 

“Aw, I make you soft,” he coos, kissing her hand again.

“It’s disgusting, really. I’ve lost my edge.”

He smiles widely and nudges her until she lifts her head so he can give her a proper kiss, tired and slow and sweet.

“Well it’s stupid how in love with you I am,” he mumbles against her lips. “If that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t,” she tells him and kisses him again. “You’ve always been a little bitch.”

He laughs hard at that, his head falling back against his pillow, and she giggles as she buries her face in his neck. She bumps her nose against his throat once, twice, twice more, and he squeezes her fingers between his in the same rhythm. Their rhythm. A beat that has not once wavered since he first sent it her way.

“I love you,” he mutters, even though the pattern says it all.

“I love you,” she whispers back, and taps it out on the palm of his hand. 

It is 12 a.m. and the curtains are drawn but in their bed, together, Percy is certain he can feel the sun's gentle glow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s really over.  
> I truly loved writing this story, even when it got away from me a little (a lot) and ended up completely different from what I initially planned. But what is the human experience without a little adaptation amiright? So sorry for the excruciatingly slow burn that moved at a snail's pace, but I hope it was worth the wait.  
> Also I have a lot of Thoughts about this AU because it lives in my head rent-free so I may end up posting like a little side piece of scenes I cut out because it made the chapter too long (me n my 12k per chapter ass need to Shut Up) or side-stories but it wouldn't really be a continuous narrative, more like little snippets and such. I'm not sure about it, though, since it's mostly for me to have and use as practice and creative space. I don't need to post it but I would if I thought any of you might be interested so let me know what you think!  
> Lastly, I just want to say thank you all for reading one last time. I cannot describe how grateful I am for all of you who have been following along with the story, you're all the sweetest kindest people and I appreciate your support so so so so so much! I love you! Thank you thank you thank you!


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